


Home to Me

by parakeats



Series: Time traveling AU [1]
Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Adam Parrish Loves Ronan Lynch, Adam Parrish is Bad at Feelings, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Future, CDTH not compliant, Cabeswater - Freeform, Declan Lynch is a Good Brother, Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, Lynch Family (Raven Cycle), M/M, Magical Adam Parrish, Minor Henry Cheng/Richard Gansey III/Blue Sargent, Pining, Ronan Lynch Loves Adam Parrish, Ronan Lynch Loves Adam Parrish's Hands, Ronan Lynch is Bad at Feelings, Teen Angst, Time Travel, domestic Ronan Lynch
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-19
Updated: 2021-02-21
Packaged: 2021-03-02 19:22:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 33,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24262030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/parakeats/pseuds/parakeats
Summary: Adam wakes up ten years in the past, right at the tail end of that heady final summer of high school where he and Gansey and Ronan were kings of Henrietta as they searched for Glendower. Now he needs all their help to figure out a way to get home - because his younger self is caught in his own future and there are dangers lurking on the Ley Line.
Relationships: Ronan Lynch/Adam Parrish
Series: Time traveling AU [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1983088
Comments: 67
Kudos: 203





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome! Time travel is one of my favourite tropes and I wanted more of that in this fandom. I’m 100% here for alternate timelines and people being thrown into their past & then they have to confront their feelings. *chefs kiss* 
> 
> This is set sometime between BLLB and TRK. I don’t remember timelines, so this is fast and loose with those since I’m working off of (bad) memory, and also everyone is 18+ (let’s assume they have early birthdays).
> 
> I’ve also read CDTH, and this is not compliant with that story (as in, the future sections do not agree with any of the CDTH canon). But I borrowed some of the subjects that Stiefvater touches on in CDTH since they are so ready for the BIG ANGST factor. So technically there could be character arc spoilers up through CDTH since it's all one big puddle in my brain labelled "canon stuff".
> 
> Also I have a playlist I used for writing to get into the ***vibes*** and I can post the track list if y’all want. (Title is from a song off of that - “Home to Me” by Devil in the Deep Blue Sea)
> 
> Story is complete and I’m posting chapters weekly on Sunday evenings. So please feel free to comment with your questions! I love talkin to people! Ok here we go~!
> 
> As always, thank you for reading!

Ronan’s jaw cracked with a wide yawn as he shuffled around the kitchen-bath-laundry room at Monmouth. He carelessly knocked the stainless steel french press against the counter while filling it with objectionably expensive coffee grounds. If Gansey were home, he’d frown or say something about Ronan breaking the last two coffee makers, but he wasn’t home, so he didn’t. 

Gansey was off with The Maggot to pick up Adam from St. Agnes so that they could take advantage of Adam’s few hours off this Saturday to visit Cabeswater. Apparently Adam had been having disrupted dreams all week - filled with increasingly disturbing forested landscapes - that he had eventually described to Gansey between third and fourth period last Thursday. Gansey had taken this as a sign that Cabeswater needed a visit asap, but Adam hadn’t been available until Saturday. 

Ronan blearily remembered Gansey trying to coax him out of bed earlier that morning while explaining all this - reminding him that they were all going _together_. Ronan was far too fucking hung over to get up and had cussed Gansey out until his friend had sighed - in that particular way - and then left after promising to swing back to pick up Ronan once he’d gotten Blue and Adam. 

So Ronan, regrettably hung over, was brewing coffee next to their tiny laundry machine. If it happened that he was making enough for Gansey too, then he wasn’t admitting it to himself. He didn’t drink as much as he used to, but it was still one of his go-to crutches and he could remember being a real asshole the night before to Gansey, so maybe a coffee would be enough of an apology that the roiling guilt in his gut would settle.

Chainsaw, perched on Ronan’s shoulder with claws digging into the skin through the heavy dark cotton of his t-shirt, cawed once, loudly into his ear, before a knock came at the door. Ronan was going to leave it, but Chainsaw cocked her head and then pushed off of Ronan’s shoulder to glide into the main room towards the door with another loud, ragged caw. 

Off-balance, Ronan slumped towards the door, jerked it open, and grumbled, “ _what?_ ” 

A man stood in the doorway, his hand raised as though to knock again, and a surprised look on his features. He looked familiar and Ronan quickly squinted down to his clothes - a tank top and too-small track pants - to try and get a hint to jog his memory. He was older - a friend of Declans? He couldn’t be - not dressed like _that_. Ronan didn’t think Declan would talk to anyone who didn’t look like they were one step away from stepping out of a j.crew catalogue. 

“Ronan?” the stranger asked in a rolling Henrietta accent and then quickly, as though surprised by his own words, “what are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be with your dad?”

That cut into Ronan right through the mid-morning hangover fog like a static shock and he snarled, “fuck _off._ ” 

And before he could slam the door shut, Gansey’s voice echoed up the stairwell, “ - see Jane, Adam’s car is here, so we must have just crossed each other on the road - “ then he stopped having spotted the stranger at the top of the stairs, and called up, “you didn’t have to drive all the way out, Adam, Jane and I were already on our way.” 

The stranger winced - just a small, so familiar twitch of one eyebrow - and turned slightly, “hey Gansey.” 

Ronan, who still burned with the shock of someone mentioning his father, had this realization almost as an aftershock and hardly felt it at all. It just slid into place like knowledge in a dream where one moment something strange was in front of you, then the next you intimately knew and had always known that truth. Because he knew this accent slipping out around vowels, and the slope of these freckled shoulders, and the curve of tendon up to one delicate ear that he had only recently been letting himself hope that he was allowed to intimately know. Over Gansey stumbling over his own confusion, Ronan rasped out, “Parrish, what the _fuck?_ ” 

This older, stranger Adam looked between Gansey and Blue at the foot of the stairs and up to Ronan, his face held carefully in a too-familiar shuttered expression, “we should probably talk inside.” 

* * *

Blue had woken up that morning with her usual worries - about grades, about Glendower, about falling in love with Gansey. She hadn’t expected to spend any time worrying about Adam. Of course there was still that low-level awkwardness, particularly compounded by her own unsurety if she should tell him about Gansey, since she hadn’t _really_ dated Adam and she wasn’t _really_ dating Gansey. But this morning had brought her a very Adam-specific concern. 

When Gansey and she had arrived at St. Agnes, Adam’s car hadn’t been in the gravel lot, and she had begun worrying that Adam had gone to Cabeswater without them. Despite recently keeping the group involved in developments with Cabeswater, Adam’s relationship with the forest had only seemed to grow stranger and more mysterious. For every piece of information he would give them, she felt like he was keeping two back, and visiting the forest alone never occurred to her as a sensible idea. Cabeswater was too attentive to their self-destructive ideas and too uncaring of their safety. 

But instead of heading to Cabeswater, Gansey had returned to Monmouth for Ronan and they were now sitting on the low couches across from a strangely familiar, older Adam. 

Gansey had offered a few half-formed questions, still too spun sideways with the impossibility of this, before resting back on his good manners and offering Adam some coffee. 

Ronan had just scowled and was now hovering around the edges of the room pretending to pay attention to Chainsaw. 

The Other Adam had sat quietly for a moment, letting Gansey work himself up before he looked over to Blue and asked, “what year is it?” 

Blue, who liked the sensibility of this, replied, “twenty-twelve.” 

“Are you really Adam?” Gansey asked, less sensibly. 

“Yes,” the other Adam said easily, “but I don’t think I’m your Adam.” 

Ronan scoffed loudly. 

Adam twitched, but ignored him, “besides the fact that yesterday I was ten years in the future, there’s also some… differences that I don’t remember.” 

Gansey put his thumb to the corner of his mouth thoughtfully and asked as though it wasn’t horribly sci-fi cliche, “so you’re from the future?”

Other Adam shrugged and offered, “yes, and no.” He took a swallow of coffee and when no-one offered anything further, he clarified, “I’m from a future, but not _your_ future.” 

Blue asked, “how do you know?”

Other Adam put the coffee cup down on the ground - Ronan and Noah had broken the coffee table last week - and fiddled with something in his hand while he thought about this, “I don’t know how much to tell you. In case of -”

“Timeline repercussions?” Gansey offered, caught somewhere between boyish curiosity and politically polite, “is there anything you know that you can tell us?”

“Not really,” Other Adam sighed and gathered himself in such an Adam-esque way, as though he could sit straight enough, then he’d have control, “since I woke up in St. Agnes, I assumed that I had swapped with my high school self. So I came to Monmouth, assuming I’d find Gansey, but Ronan’s here instead - “

Ronan cut in, “what did you do to Parrish?” His face was pinched in a cutting scowl. Chainsaw was perched on his shoulder and extended her wings to balance herself before launching towards Other Adam. 

She swooped over him, nearly clipped his head with one wing before landing on the back of the couch and stepping closer to him in a little two-step shuffle. 

“I didn’t do _anything_ ,” Other Adam, face carefully blank, had turned to peer at where Ronan sulked at the edge of the room.

Chainsaw nipped at his ear and he whipped around with a little curse and asked Ronan pointedly, “did you dream her?” 

Ronan grunted unhelpfully and stalked closer to drop into one of the tired recliners that was at an angle to the couches. He raised an arm to beckon Chainsaw back, but she just let out a rebellious screech and stepped up onto Other Adam’s shoulder.

He winced when her talons curled into the freckled skin that was exposed under the threadbare tank top and muttered, “so that’s where she got her winning personality.” 

Ronan scowled. 

Gansey, used to Ronan’s moods, pushed on and prompted, “when you woke up this morning Adam - that is, our Adam - wasn’t at St. Agnes?”

“No,” Other Adam ran his fingers through the plumage on Chainsaw’s chest and let her nip at a knuckle, “but I expected that, almost. Time’s pretty flexible, but I don’t think it would be happy with both of us in the same place, if it can be helped. If I’m _here_ , it’s more balanced if he’s _there_.” 

Gansey asked, as though they didn’t already all know the answer, “where is he?” 

Chainsaw’s dark beak pecked at a silver ring on Adam’s finger and Other Adam said, “in my present.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adam wakes up in an unexpected place.

**2022**

For the past week Adam had been sleeping fitfully with dreams full of dark forests. The trees were always spindly and sickly, sticking up from loamy, sour-smelling soil and reaching towards a dark sky. Between the trunks, he would spot pale figures slumped in the darkness, faces always turned away from him. Adam always knew, in that way of dream knowing, that he shouldn’t approach them. But even as he tried to circle around them at a wide berth, he could never see their faces. He could circle around them through the identical trees and, without turning, their backs would remain to him. 

Scrying in the mornings didn’t help clarify anything, and his cards would just keep feeding him the same message - _tell the Greywaren_. 

So he told Gansey, even though there was still an awkward distance between them, because he figured it probably had more to do with the third sleeper than it did with Ronan’s dreaming. 

He had expected to spend that day trudging through Cabeswater either getting no answers or encountering some new danger formed from their deepest anxieties, and then reluctantly leaving for his shift at Boyds to tire himself out more before tackling his econ paper. 

Instead, he woke up with a warm body pressed against his back and an arm wrapped around him so that one hand rested open-palmed against his chest. 

Adam always moved from dreaming to awake quickly - he’d learned too early in life that being aware of his surroundings was necessary for survival. So his brain was wide-awake and already cataloguing the softness of the sheets and mattress which was so unlike his own and racing back to the unremarkable night before to try and explain why he wasn’t in his own bed. His memories revealed nothing - he had fallen asleep in his cramped apartment above St Agnes like every other night before. 

A warm breath puffed against the back of his neck and Adam stiffened when it was followed by a sleepy kiss. 

Reflexively, he grabbed the wrist of the arm thrown over his chest and tugged so that he could start awkwardly rolling out from under it. 

The stranger’s grip tightened and almost succeeded in pulling him back in, but Adam managed to pull free and slide out of bed. He unconsciously looked back, caught a glance of the stranger nuzzling into his abandoned pillow - that he had dark curly hair and a muscular, _very_ naked back - before stumbling to the door. 

He didn’t know what he expected to find outside that door since everything so far had been so unexpected, but it certainly wasn’t Declan and a blonde man perched on barstools in a modern apartment kitchen chowing down on fruit loops. 

Declan took one look at Adam’s skinny legs which poked out from his baggy sleeping shorts and threadbare, thrifted shirt before he sighed, “well, you all fucked up royally.” 

* * *

**2012**

Ronan picked at the fraying arm of the recliner that Gansey had insisted they keep at Monmouth while he and the maggot played twenty questions with the Other Adam. He didn’t like the fascination Chainsaw had developed with sitting on Other Adam and pecking at his hands until he had sternly told her off. 

This Other Adam was too calm talking about his situation, it was uncanny. All his aloof expressions were simply so familiar, but sometimes he’d look over at Ronan earnestly, like he couldn’t believe his eyes. 

Ronan tried not to look back, but he’d spent too much time recently feeling free to look, so he felt uncomfortable trying to stop. Instead, he just bared his teeth in a mocking grin. 

Eventually Gansey decided for them that the plans for that day had changed and that they should all go to Foxway. Blue borrowed Gansey’s cell to call her mom and make sure that she and Calla were available.

Other Adam had agreed easily, then asked, “did I have work today?” 

Before Gansey could reply, Ronan had grunted, “Boyd’s,” then, embarrassed at being helpful, he launched himself out of the chair, stomped over to his room, and slammed the door shut. 

He kicked aimlessly at the piles of mess on his floor for a while. They were mostly clothes, but eventually he stubbed his toe on some hidden dream-thing and dropped to his bed with a curse. He could hear the others walk around on Monmouth’s creaky, refurbished floors for a while before the front door closed. 

Gansey knocked on the bedroom door before he pushed it open, “Adam wants to ride with you to Foxway.” 

“Not going,” Ronan grunted and shoved a pair of boots off his bed with one foot so that he could sprawl more effectively. 

Gansey let him squirm for a bit, then said, “you don’t like him?”

Ronan frowned because it didn’t matter if he _liked_ this older Adam. They couldn’t _trust_ him.

“Listen,” Gansey started, working himself up to a truly earnest speech, “I know that things with Parrish have been tense lately-” 

Ronan barked out an unamused laugh because Gansey didn't know the half of it. 

Gansey continued right over him, “- but you don’t need to take your frustration out on _this_ Adam. He just wants to get back, and I think getting him back to his own time will help us get our Adam back.” He paused and admitted, “I can’t search for Glendower without both of you.” 

Ronan avoided Gansey’s earnest statement and let out a hissing breath, “ _fine._ I’ll meet you there. Take him in the Pig.” 

Gansey shrugged at this compromise and left Ronan to tug on a pair of ripped jeans. Ronan didn’t want to touch this situation with a ten foot pole, but he couldn’t deny Gansey help with this new mystery. And as much as he hated visiting Foxway where he felt examined and peeled-open, he couldn't abandon the first attempt at getting their Adam back.

Ronan thudded his way through Monmouth and slammed the door behind him. The Pig wasn’t in the lot anymore and Other Adam was leaned against the nose of the BMW, hands in his pockets and gaze pointed to the distance. He’d been given a pair of jeans that stopped inches short over his bony ankles and a dark t-shirt that stretched appealingly over his arms. It was one of the many shirts that Ronan left scattered around Monmouth, he realized with an unwelcome warmth in his stomach. 

And as tired as this Adam looked, he was still healthier than their Adam - a bit more filled out as though he’d been eating regularly. His tan glowed instead of turning to angry red peeling skin on his cheeks, and his hair was clipped neatly over his ears and across his forehead. Ronan cursed Gansey for leaving him here and almost turned right back into Monmouth to avoid sitting in a car with this new Older Adam. 

Adam looked over at him and offered a little smile, “I figured you would want to drive.” 

Ronan just scowled back and stomped over to the driver’s side door. 

For some reason, Adam smiled wider for a second before he rounded the nose of the car to the passenger side. 

Ronan tore the BMW out of the lot. They sat without talking. Ronan focused on the feeling of the tires as they ripped over the road and the pulsing thud of music in the body of the car. As much as he tried to ignore him, Ronan still glanced at Other Adam out of the corner of his eye, so he wasn’t surprised when Other Adam leaned forward and turned the music down. 

Other Adam said, “I’ve pissed you off.” 

Ronan just clenched the wheel. 

“Whatever it is, I’m sorry,” Adam said firmly without much remorse. He didn't sound apologetic - he sounded like he wanted Ronan to stop being mad.

Ronan reached over and cranked the music up louder. 

Adam didn’t say anything for a moment, but then reached out and turned off the music completely to say with frustration, “and if you’re pissed at this younger _me_ , then cut it out. I need you on my team right now.” 

“Fuck off,” Ronan said with relish. 

“I’m trying to get back,” Adam continued pointedly, “and undoing whatever has switched us is going to take me _and_ you. My power isn't -” he stopped and changed his tactic, “I didn’t come here on purpose, and right now - back in my timeline - we’re trying to fix Matthew, so it’s a bit urgent - “ 

Ronan swerved and pulled over, one tire skipped alarmingly over the curb. He twisted in his seat to glare suspiciously at this Other Adam, “am I dead?”

“What?”

“If something’s wrong with Matthew,” Ronan prompted. 

“It’s not your future,” Adam said reluctantly, as though to reassure him. 

Ronan made a decisive move with his hand, “I don’t fucking care - am I dead? Is that why Matthew’s got to be ‘fixed’?”

“No,” Adam fiddled with the ring on his left hand - an annoyingly unconscious gesture that he’d been doing nearly the whole time he’d been at Monmouth, “there’s something else wrong. We don’t know what it is. I need to get back to help, ok?” 

Ronan flipped this over in his mind - this Other Adam might be lying, but Matthew’s life wasn’t one he was willing to risk. He threw the car back into gear and pulled away from the curb. 

"Besides," Adam continued as he yanked open the glove box and pushed aside the dreamed epi-pens and real speeding tickets, "you're all probably still looking for Glendower, right? You'll need your Adam for that." He pulled out an old granola bar, ripped open the wrapper, took a bite, and pointed ahead, “take a left here?” 

Ronan automatically swung around the corner, but bit out sharply, “why?”

“Because,” Other Adam replied lightly, finishing off the granola bar, “there was no food at St. Agnes, there’s probably still a drive-through on this block, and I don’t want to scry with low blood sugar.” 

Ronan scowled, but still found the nearest drive through and didn’t notice how easily this Adam let him pay for the bill until they were speeding towards Foxway. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adam reads some cards and there's only more questions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much everyone for all your kind comments! :)

**2012**

Their visit to Foxway went about how Adam expected it to - the house was still busy and full with people and energy, just as he remembered it from high school. He’d had an awkward run in with Orla who still flirted with anything that moved, mostly to annoy Blue, who had predictably become annoyed. Their encounter had been winding up to a proper argument until Calla interrupted with a firm word and a hand on Adam’s arm. 

They paused like this, looking at each other warily while Blue and Orla bickered in the background, before Calla scowled darkly. Adam wondered what she could see with that touch. He’d never fully understood the extent of her power - how much detail was in it? Could she see herself as he’d known Foxway? 

She led him into the reading room where Maura was already shuffling her tarot cards carefully. 

Maura smiled lightly, but distantly at him and offered her deck to him in greeting, “pick a card?”

Adam walked toward where she sat at a table covered in a practical plastic tablecloth and a series of crocheted placemats. He cut the deck by lifting one half out of her hand, then flipped the stack of cards over on the table so that one card showed face-up.

The Magician. 

Maura had chastised him lightly, “we don’t need you to prove who you are.” 

Adam specifically didn’t look over to where Ronan had slipped into the room and lurked in the corner with a suspicious scowl. Adam shrugged lightly, “fair enough,” and slid The Magician off the deck so that the next card was revealed - the two of swords. 

“An impasse,” Maura said, folding her hand over the cards left with her, “what decision are you avoiding?” 

Adam still looked down at the card for a quiet moment. Maura’s deck wasn’t as familiar to him, so he focused on the illustration for a moment until his knee started aching and he jerkily lowered himself into one of the mismatched chairs surrounding the table. He slid another card out of the deck - the five of cups. 

Blue had joined them and leaned over Adam’s shoulder, her hand on the back of his chair.

Laid together on the table, Adam let his eyes wander over the swirls in the illustrations. The lines all flowed together in appealing, expressive shapes. He let his gaze fall out of focus slowly. The air buzzed with the sound of summer cicadas and the woman on the two of swords was turning her blind-folded face towards him, eye sockets empty under the cloth. 

Adam mumbled, “these aren’t for me,” and jerked his gaze away. He rubbed one knuckle in the corner of his dry eye. 

Somewhere else in the room, Gansey said softly, meaningfully, “Jane, give him some space.” 

Blue stepped away, likely to join the others on the couch. 

The sounds of the house replaced the buzzing of insects - Adam could hear Blue’s little cousins thundering gleefully through the upstairs. 

A wave of exhaustion laid over him, but it was a familiar blanket, so he just blinked to focus back on the room and said, “those are for him - for the other Adam.” He hadn’t pulled the five of cups - regret, disappointment - in his own reading for years. He didn’t fucking miss being a teenager. 

“Oh,” Gansey sounded intrigued. 

“So,” Adam continued wearily, “what decision is  _ he _ avoiding?”

* * *

**2022**

The moment Adam saw Declan in that unfamiliar kitchen, he decided to keep quiet and listen until he had enough information to piece together what had happened. He didn’t want to ask - he didn’t know Declan very well except that Ronan hated him and Adam sometimes wished that he could copy his professional, accomplished mask.

Declan hadn’t said much else other than offering Adam some cereal and then disappearing back down the hall that Adam had left. 

Adam leaned awkwardly against the high counter and stirred the fruit loops in the bowl. It had blue flowers painted with an amateur hand around the lip, like it was from one of those touristy paint-your-own-pottery places.

He didn’t feel rested in the slightest from the night before, though he hadn’t had any more strange dreams, and he felt exposed in his ratty sleeping clothes. 

“Can you pass that?” the blonde man asked sleepily and pointed at the box of fruit loops. 

Adam, mouth full, nodded and slid the box over. 

The blonde man mumbled a thanks with a little, fleeting smile, and Adam realized that this was Matthew - looking tired and older than Adam was himself. His mind scrambled around the facts - he didn’t spend much time with Matthew, but Ronan’s kid brother was definitely taller than he remembered and he looked more like Aurora than ever. Something in the slope of his nose, and vacancy in his eyes which flicked up over Adam’s shoulder to someone coming down the hallway. 

“Oh, shit in a bucket,” they said with exasperation. 

Adam turned, and Blue was striding towards him, Declan not far behind. 

At least, he was sure it was Blue. Her face was narrower than yesterday, and her hair had been buzzed to a dark fuzz close to her scalp, but she was still dressed in something familiarly eccentric that appeared to be a victim of enthusiastic DIY modifications. 

“Uh,” Adam blinked back at her, “good morning?”

“Morning,” Blue sighed, hands on her hips. She strode over to the kitchen and pulled out a coffee carafe next to Adam that he had barely noticed. She briskly poured herself a large coffee, then tipped the carafe towards him as an offer. 

Adam nodded, still keeping quiet as he took in more details while his mind put some things together. He hadn’t noticed earlier, possibly because Declan always seemed to him to be far more than a year older than him, but between Matthew and Blue he was beginning to think something impossible. 

Blue slid the coffee over with just the amount of milk that he liked when he wasn’t resigned to drinking the black 99 cent coffee from the convenience store around the corner from St. Agnes. She took a sip then leveled him with a look that was friendly, but firm, “so you’re from the past.” 

Adam nodded, because that seemed to be true. 

“How old are you?” Blue asked. 

“Eighteen,” Adam muttered into his cereal. 

Declan cussed quietly. 

Blue said, “we’d better get the others up. The sooner we can figure out why you’re here and how to swap you back, the better. Sorry,” she said matter-of-fact to Adam, “we’re kind of in the middle of a different, not-Adam crisis. So getting all hands back on deck is kind of a priority.”

Adam shrugged, slightly comforted by Blue’s practicality. 

A set of lumbering steps came from the hallway and Adam wondered how many more surprises were crammed into this apartment. Then he remembered with a jolt of emabarrasment how he had woken up next to an unfamiliar body. 

Ronan rounded the corner, scratching sleepily at his bare stomach. 

“Put on a shirt,” Declan shot at him, as though this was a request worn out with repetition. 

Ronan pulled a face at him that said ‘make me’. 

Matthew quietly gathered up his cereal and cell phone, and slipped out of a set of nearby doors that led out to a small balcony. He disappeared among the small forest of plants and potted trees crammed out there. 

Ronan tracked this movement, with a vulnerable look of guilt that quickly shuttered behind confusion when he spotted Adam. 

Adam met his confused eyes steadily, determined to keep his expression blank. He specifically tried not to look at the short black curls that spilled messily over this Ronan’s forehead, or how he’d barely pulled on a pair of sweatpants before stumbling out to the kitchen. He couldn’t ignore the dark wooden cane that Ronan held in the middle rather than at the end, like it was an item he was carrying instead of a tool he was using. There was a dark shadow of scruff on his chin that was cut through with a pale scar along his left cheek. 

“This wasn’t me,” Ronan said to Declan snidely, gesturing at Adam. 

“I didn’t think it was,” Declan replied drily, “not alone anyway.” 

“I’m not a dream,” Adam cut in. He could feel his temper flaring hot up the back of his neck at being talked about rather than to. 

Ronan smirked at him and raised an eyebrow. 

“Gross,” Blue chucked a wadded up dish towel at Ronan. 

“What?” Ronan asked as though he didn’t know what he had been doing. 

Adam flushed, embarrassed and uncomfortable with feeling exposed again. It just fed into the hot frustration that rang in his ears.

“Get the others,” Blue commanded, “and get dressed. I’ve only been back for one day and I’m already sick of this shirt-optional regression you boys are going through.” 

Ronan rolled his eyes, leaned the cane against the wall, but turned back to disappear down the hallway again. 

Blue muttered something about tripping hazards and handed the cane to Adam, then said, “you too. Your clothes are in the spare bedroom. You’ll probably want to be dressed for this.” 

Adam, who was still trying quite hard to appear that he wasn’t concerned, awkwardly placed the cane on the counter and took his coffee back to the bedroom he’d woken up in. 

The room was empty, thankfully, so Adam shut the door behind himself and carefully placed his coffee mug on one of the bedside tables. The bedding was rumpled, clearly pushed aside from when Ronan had gotten up. Adam looked away and spotted a suitcase half open beside the dresser.

He flipped it open and stared down into the clothing that he didn’t recognize. It had clearly been folded at one point, but rifled through until it was a messy pile. 

He took the realizations from earlier that morning and set them aside in his mind until he had a fuller scope of the situation and the time to examine them. He remembered that he was supposed to be working at Boyd’s that evening, felt the sharp sting of panic - where would he make up that money? Would he still have his job when he returned? - then numbed that feeling and set it aside as well. 

He pulled out a few articles of clothing - a soft sweater and dark jeans with a faded wash already printed into them. They looked more expensive than all the clothes he currently owned. He stuffed his hand into a side pocket of the luggage to find socks or underwear, and ended up pulling out a string of square foils of condoms. He closed his eyes, stuffed them back in, and searched the main body of the luggage for underwear. He was still carefully numbing out feeling anything and pretended that this is what it felt like to be in control of his situation. 

He was half-way through tugging the jeans on when Ronan swung the door open and stepped through saying absently, “you forgot this in the kitchen. Were you really this forgetful in high school too?” 

Ronan tossed the cane onto the bed. 

Adam finished doing up the button of his jeans - the waistband was baggy - and forced his expression into a blank mask, “still haven’t learned any manners, Lynch?”

Ronan ran an assessing look over him and shut the door. He replied archly, “retract your claws, Adam. I forgot how touchy you used to be.” 

Adam tugged the soft green sweater over his head to block Ronan out for a moment. 

“Hey, pass me something before Sargent starts looking for us,” Ronan said as he flopped down onto the bed. 

Adam tossed him the first shirt and pants he pulled out of the luggage. 

Ronan snorted and lobbed the pants back over, “nice try. These are gonna be too short.” 

On a good day, Adam was uncomfortable with being stuck in a situation where he didn’t know the answer. So when he was faced with Ronan's knowing smirk, his frustration got the better of him and he snapped, “just get it yourself.” 

He busied himself with the brown leather belt that he’d found coiled up on top of the dresser next to a picture of Blue and a man he didn’t know standing in clear blue water on a tropical beach somewhere, wearing matching daisy-shaped sunglasses and silly expressions. He fumbled with the belt-loops and threaded the belt through quickly so that he could escape to the kitchen. 

Ronan touched his shoulder as he passed, nothing more than an absent-minded warm brush, but Adam jerked forward and knocked his knee against the solid wood of the dresser. When he whipped his head to the side to glare at Ronan he saw that the other man was bent over the suitcase digging through the clothes - that would explain how the contents had gotten so messy. When Ronan, still turned away, put his hands on the waist of his sweatpants, Adam decided that he didn’t need any socks and quickly left the room before Ronan got any  _ more _ naked. 

He didn't let himself take one last look at Ronan's broad, smooth back before he left, because that would feel like admitting something.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adam and Ronan are tired and still don’t get along.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soundtrack for this chapter is “Solringen” by Wardruna

**2012**

After what seemed like an endless afternoon talking to Maura and being glared at by Calla, Adam retreated to the back steps of Foxway. The little cousins were running around the backyard in the brilliant sunlight as they dodged between trees. One of them had a football tucked under their arm, but there wasn’t a clear goal to the game. 

Adam stared out over them. He'd called Boyd's and his manager at the factory to take the next few days off. He hoped that they would allow for "family emergencies" and that his younger self would have a job when they finally switched back. There was little he could do other than this and that lack was frustrating.

Nothing about the conversations with Maura and Calla earlier that day had given him a clue when he would be going home or even what had brought him here. He just had more questions than ever and a pounding headache from trying to divine on a fractured ley line. He missed his ley line - strong and whole after years of him tending to it.

Gansey joined a few moments later, his face drawn in quiet contemplation. He brought two tall glasses of sweet tea. The flowers printed on the outside of the cups were faded with time and warped behind the beads of condensation. 

Gansey handed Adam one cup before sitting beside him on the back step. He looked out at the yard for a moment before starting, “Ronan has gone, so I can give you a ride back when you’re ready to go.” 

Adam, exhausted and aching, was ready to leave, but not ready to try his legs by standing. He nodded, “thanks.” 

Gansey was quiet for a moment while he chewed over a thought. He looked so boyish and full of energy. The potential that lived inside his friend made Adam ache. Maybe this is what homesickness felt like - a familiar fond sadness. 

Adam asked quietly, “can I stay at Monmouth?” 

Gansey looked over at him and pasted on his genial son-of-a-politician voice over his shock, “of course. We can make up Noah’s room. He’s hardly using it.”

Adam didn’t know what the surprise in Gansey’s expression meant, “thanks. I think, right now, I shouldn’t be too far from y’all. We don’t know  _ why _ I moved through time - what if someone else gets switched? I don’t even know if the catalyst was on my side or yours,” he looked out pensively over the garden. One of the cousins had climbed a tree and was stuffing the football into one of the higher branches while the others shouted up at her. Adam continued, “if it’s uncomfortable, don’t be polite. I can stay at St. Agnes. I know it’s weird. But I appreciate you putting me up. I don’t think Ronan wants me staying at The Barns, at least.” He wondered what expression he was making for Gansey to look at him like that. 

Gansey cleared his throat, “well, no, you’d be alone out there in any case, which is no improvement-” 

Adam turned a little towards Gansey, “what… Where’s Matthew and Declan?” 

“Declan’s in Alexandria,” Gansey started. 

They had been stumbling over these differences all day, and Adam was tired of feeling out of control. This past was like looking at a funhouse mirror where he could see all these people he  _ knew _ but they were distorted. No one was where he expected them to be. 

“He’s there so that he’s closer to school,” Gansey continued. He was the only one who hadn’t gotten frustrated or confused by the moments where Adam’s memories didn’t align with their reality, “and Matthew lives in the Aglionby dorms. Ronan’s only just gotten the legal permission for them to return to The Barns.” 

Adam didn't even know what question to ask to figure out  _ why  _ the Lynch brothers had not been allowed to go to the Barns. He would just uncover more questions. He was tired of not understanding.

Gansey paused, and then continued hesitantly as though he was about to say something obvious, “Ronan still technically lives at Monmouth.” 

Adam let this settle over him. He was exhausted just thinking about managing the distrust that this Ronan spat at him al day. He was probably making a face again because Gansey bumped his shoulder slightly and said gamely, “I’ll talk to him. Don’t worry.” 

Adam closed his eyes, nodded, and was thankful that the one thing that hadn’t changed was Gansey’s heart.

* * *

**2012**

Ronan got back to Monmouth late that night - past midnight. After leaving Foxway, he had spent the day speeding around the back roads outside of Henrietta, taking the turns as tightly and messily as he could. There wasn’t anyone to race anymore - after what happened at Kavinsky’s party, everyone willing to race avoided the BMW - and he didn’t really want to. But he was full of buzzing energy that would end up in a fractured, anxious, sleepless night. So he spent the whole afternoon attempting to run the energy out as though he could outrun the events of the day on fumes and dust. 

He drove out of Henrietta until his gas gauge hovered over empty and coasted into a nondescript gas station. He called Matthew just to hear him being happy and healthy and  _ fine _ for a few short minutes as he listened to the clicking of his engine cooling off. 

Then he turned the nose of the BMW back around and took a winding route back to Henrietta with a full tank and a six pack of shitty beer in the trunk. 

This was how he got back to Monmouth and crashed in his bed straight into a dream before he could crack the top of a beer can, and unaware that the Other Adam was sleeping one room away.

In his dream Ronan was in a grungy little bathroom with all the taps running. The water sounded like the wind through leaves. His beat up sneakers soaked up the water as it inched upwards. He was unconcerned, splashing around on the old glass tile until the water reached the span of his chest and was bitterly cold. None of the water was escaping down the rusty drains or through the crack under the door. The Aglionby tie that he never wore soaked up the water and tightened around his throat. The water was green and brackish. He floated with it, up, up, up, until he was pressed soggily against the cracked plaster ceiling. His sluggish movements in the water sounded like pebbles rolling downhill. 

“I can breath,” he said, water lapping at his lips, “I can leave.” 

And between one breath and the next, he floated up through the ceiling. 

Then, he was in a forest. Another glade that Cabeswater hadn’t revealed to them yet. He knelt in the damp leaves, dripping water down his proud nose and from his chin. He panted wetly into the stillness. 

There was a door. It was between two young birch trees no more than ten feet from where Ronan knelt. It was the inside of the front door at The Barns. There, to the side, was the cedarwood bench with the Lynch boys’ small shoes tucked haphazardly underneath. There, hanging in the air, was the row of pewter coat hooks shaped like small, lively fish. Ronan knew this door. He knew that behind it, just beyond, was his worst memory. 

If he opened it he would see the shape of a man-who-was-Niall, the figure of someone who was once a father, broken and bloody on the gravel. 

Ronan knew that this truth was there, even if he didn’t open the door. But he knew it like a flickering on the edge of his vision, so he hoped that if he didn’t open the door, then it wouldn’t be real yet. The door wanted him to open it. The knob seemed to be perfectly shaped for his hand. 

He turned quickly in the leaves so that the door was behind him. Twigs and rocks pressed angrily into his palms. On the ground before him were three swords. They looked like they were straight out of Gansey’s notes on Glendower, or an Arthurian tapestry. Their hilts were leather-wrapped and pommels inset with winking blue stones that looked like the Henrietta sky in high summer. The blades were wickedly sharp. Ronan could feel their edges in his heart like they had already found a home there. 

He closed his eyes. He wasn’t in control of the dream, no, but it hadn’t slid into the dark pit in his mind that conjured night horrors yet. He hadn’t dreamed of the horrors in so long, but he still didn’t take it for granted. If he waited, maybe his heart would slow, maybe Orphan Girl would appear, and he could regain control. He needed one of his psychopomps to focus the frenetic energy of his dream. His breath quickened and his heart pumped fire through his veins.

He felt a blindfold lightly press against his eyes, over his brow. He had spent this whole dream avoiding looking at what was in front of him - of course the dream would hear this and give him near blindness. He thought of the tarot card with the blindfolded woman from earlier that day - the two of swords - an impasse. What decision was he avoiding? 

He could feel the blindfold pressing heavily over his eyes, his furrowed brow. Ronan knew that he was on thin ice at Aglionby. What would it take to be expelled - one more missed class? One more failed grade? School was suffocating and useless and pointless in the face of Ronan’s dreams. 

Why was he still letting Gansey cajole him into attending? Why hadn’t he approached leaving school as straight-forward as he did everything else? He could unenroll himself, but hadn’t yet. What was he waiting for?

The forest was not quiet and grew louder in response to his agitated thoughts.

Did he want Childs to make the decision for him? Designate him too wild and unreasonable for the society that Aglionby pretended that it was grooming his peers for. If he was expelled then that responsibility was on  _ them _ \- proof that Aglionby wasn’t enough to hold him. If he was expelled, then he hadn’t given up, they had just proved him right. This world wasn’t broad enough to accept the reality of him. 

He could remember the conversations with Adam that he kept avoiding. The afternoons where he watched Adam write admissions essays to the most prestigious universities in the country. Where he worked so hard to be allowed into the places where Ronan didn’t belong. 

If he was expelled, then Ronan wouldn’t have to choose between being part of his own world, or Adam’s.

He heard the rustling of the trees. The branches were beginning to sound less like voices, and more like sharp talons skittering closer.

“Ronan.” 

His head snapped up towards the voice. He still couldn't see. His hearing strained against the sounds of the forest to hear that voice again. 

“Ronan, let me in,” Adam said firmly. 

Ronan sagged into his crouched pose - a gargoyle in a forest - and begged, “don’t leave.” 

The violent skittering was getting louder - closer. 

“I’m not leaving,” Adam replied reasonably. He knelt before Ronan and placed his hands gently on Ronan’s arms. 

Ronan sighed. 

The trees rustled urgently. Talons cut into their bark. 

“Ronan,” Adam squeezed his arms gently, “you’re in control. Wake up.” 

Ronan shook his head. He hadn't been in control in a long time. But he could feel how sure Adam was in the calm pressure of his hands. Ronan slid his thumbs under the blindfold on either side of the bridge of his nose.

“Wake  _ up, _ ” Adam urged. 

Ronan tore the blindfold off and woke up. 

* * *

When the paralysis wore off, Ronan rolled over in his bed. He hadn’t turned off the lights when he had gotten home, so they shone painfully down into his squinted eyes.

The Other Adam sat quietly on the edge of the wide mattress with Chainsaw on his knee. He was running one long finger gently over her beak and she had ruffled her neck feathers up under the attention. 

Ronan tugged the dreamthing clutched in his hand out from under his body. It was the blindfold that the dream had given him. It was a Harvard tie. 

Biting back a grimace, Ronan tossed the tie into the rumpled, sweaty blankets. 

Warm fingers traced gently over the back of his neck. He nearly jumped out of his skin, but the growled curse died in his throat when Adam mumbled sleepily. 

"You've got a tattoo," Adam let his hand rest in the curve of Ronan's shoulder where dark, wicked lines curled up to his neck. 

Ronan looked back at him. This Adam was tired with dark bruises under his eyes and a tight, wincing pain at the corner of his mouth. His expression was unguarded and curious. 

Ronan had dreamed of this before - Adam tracing his tattoo and looking at him with open eyes. Groggily, Ronan half wondered if he had pulled this Adam out of his dreams too. Someone familiar, but twisted half-way around the truth with the broad shoulders and golden scruff that he had traitorously found appealing in the strange, older Adam. 

This Adam let Chainsaw worry at the edge of his cotton t-shirt and said quietly, "I'm not a dream." 

"You're a fucking nightmare," Ronan scoffed caustically and shrugged the hand off his shoulder as he sat up. His jeans felt stiff and uncomfortable after being slept in, "I know when I'm dreaming."

This Adam just looked back at him solemnly, "do you still dream up the night horrors?" 

Ronan ignored him to slide off the bed and start looking for sweatpants to change into. He hated this Adam who didn't know him - who asked these questions like they were strangers. Adam was quiet for a moment until Ronan had finished awkwardly struggling out of his jeans without pulling down his boxers and then switching into a pair of rowing team track pants that had gotten mixed up from Gansey's laundry. 

Adam asked quietly with rolling vowels, "when did your dad die?" 

Ronan chucked his wadded up jeans at Adam. They missed, but Chainsaw exploded into the air with an indignant squawk. His blood raced as he seethed. 

Other Adam just turned a cold and blank mask on him. 

Ronan  _ hated  _ that Adam had somehow been in his dream - had somehow seen this moment of vulnerability - when all day he'd been a stranger. Ronan had only just recently been practicing dreaming with Adam there and he always tried to keep perfect control of them so that he wouldn’t reveal too much. 

How could this Adam not  _ know _ this defining fact of Ronan's life? This one moment that had changed all subsequent moments irrevocably? Ronan hated that, all day, this Other Adam had pretended at intimacy when he didn't know the core of who Ronan was.

Ronan said like a threat, "stay out of my head." 

Adam's mouth twitched a little, like he was taking a poisonous reply and tucking it away instead of spitting it out. 

Ronan hated that control. 

Instead, Adam said steadily, "I want to keep your dreams safe." 

Ronan bristled under the idea of being coddled by anyone. He had always relied on Adam to leave him to his own devices, to let him spin and spit and burn until he’d burnt out. To be somewhere that he could crash afterwards and put himself back together. But now this stranger was warping into another fretful Gansey, "I didn't fucking ask you to." His dream plea echoed in his head  _ 'don't leave' _ and he scowled.

This Other Adam levelled him with one last cold look before he wearily staggered to his feet and slipped through the door. 

Ronan could hear Gansey sleepily ask a question of Other Adam. Their voices were muffled through the wall. He hated that impassiveness. He wanted Adam’s eyes fixed on him. He ignored the two of them to lean over the bed and pull out a beer. 

* * *

**2022**

Cabeswater was quiet. It listened.

There were strangers among its roots.

The strangers came with shovels, and magic, and intentions. For a complete moon cycle they had been digging and digging. Their work made long trenches that upturned saplings and unearthed stones and diverted streams. The strangers sprinkled lines of salt along the trenches so that Cabeswater couldn’t shift around them. It couldn’t heal and it couldn’t defend. 

The strangers weren’t looking for something in the soil. They weren’t looking for treasure; they were already in Cabeswater. 

The wrong Dreamer was Dreaming, and Cabeswater called for its Magician.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ronan’s card is the three of swords, poor guy. That’s a rough life.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two boys dissociate on a balcony and the gangsey starts to figure out what’s going on.

**2022**

When Adam exited the bedroom - veins buzzing with the feeling of everything out of his control - he caught a glimpse of the open kitchen where Blue and Declan waited for him. Then he felt the pressure of the impending conversation and pivoted hard to the right so that he could slip through the glass doors out onto the balcony that Matthew had disappeared to earlier. 

Surrounded by the dense, leafy potted plants and the smell of wet soil, Adam tried to gain something that felt reasonable and stable. He strode to the edge of the balcony and looked out onto the city that sprawled beneath him. They weren’t in Henrietta. He didn’t know enough about the skylines of cities to know which one they were in.

“Hey, Adam.”

Adam turned to this voice. It was just Matthew crouched over a long planter filled with tiny flowering bushes. 

Matthew offered him a smile, one that barely approached the brightness that Adam had come to expect from Ronan’s most energetic brother, and it flickered out prematurely. He just seemed to be half there - vacantly staring down at the space between his knees.

Adam, after a moment of hesitation, approached him and leaned over the plants to see what Matthew was staring down at. 

Tiny blue petals swirled in rivulets of water that tracked across the pale concrete. The water leaked out from the bottom of the planter and ran, thin and slow, across the balcony. It twinkled in the midmorning sun as it diverted around the loud tartan of Matthew’s socks. The sounds of traffic - tires on tarmac - was the rustling of leaves in Adam’s deaf ear. He felt gravity tip and cupped one hand over his deaf ear as the sound turned into the overwhelming roar of a thunderstorm through treetops. 

Matthew pillowed his cheek on his arms where he had crossed them over his knees. He said something. 

Adam felt that swooping sensation again like he was a snowglobe that someone had tipped once and then righted to see what shook out. He grit his teeth and felt that place in the back of his head where Cabeswater prodded at him and thought very firmly of a wall. Between one blink and the next, the sounds dropped back and he stuttered, “u-uh, what?” 

He hoped that Matthew hadn’t noticed Adam’s strange behavior, but then again, Matthew seemed to not be noticing much of anything, including that this Adam was not the same as the Adam from yesterday.

“Do you think I overwatered them?” Matthew asked again, tired but cheerful. He patted the tin watering can that sat beside him.

“Uh,” Adam kept his eyes on Matthew’s golden curls, a bit unsettled at how quickly Cabeswater had taken over without him even trying to scry, “I wouldn’t know.” 

“Huh,” Matthew considered the waxy leaves, “me neither. It’s just so hot out here all the time, and I was getting thirsty so I figured it couldn’t hurt. But I guess Ronan would know better,” he said Ronan’s name like it was the gap left by a missing tooth - gingerly and unignorable, “they’re Blue’s so I don’t want them to die.” 

This prompted Adam to haltingly ask, “whose apartment is this?” 

Matthew looked up at him with eyes too young for his face, “Blue lives here.” 

Adam tried to picture this modern, chic apartment as a place that Blue would choose. It was so far away from his memory of her room in Foxway that he could hardly believe it, but maybe he knew nothing about this Blue. He spent so much effort being unknowable, maybe he didn’t know anything about the Blue from his present either. 

“Matthew, have you seen -” a friendly voice came from the doorway, stopped, and then sounded delighted, “oh, Adam!” 

Gansey’s head poked around the edge of the door and he was smiling over at them both. He waved a hand to beckon them back inside, “come, come, let’s talk before lunch is ready.” 

Adam straightened up and followed him back inside. He focussed on examining the changes in this Gansey to distract himself from the discomfort of the conversation to come. When Adam imagined Gansey’s future - when he managed to forget that Gansey was going to die, and that he’d fucked up too much to make up for it before the year ended and it was too _late_ and - 

So. When he pictured Gansey grown up, he assumed that he would be pulled into one of the nebulous businesses that his father controlled, or follow his mother into politics and be already polished into a young man fast-tracked to congress. Someone like Helen - tall, sharp, and well possessed with a surprising hobby as a tasteful quirk.

But then Adam thought about Monmouth, the Pig, the stories of Gansey stomping around the Welsh hills looking for magic, and he thought that he could see the beginnings of this rumpled, friendly man. Gansey was wearing a jumper with elbow patches - the fashionable kind, rather than the functional kind - and a round pair of tortoiseshell glasses that gave him a charmingly bug-eyed affect. 

He led Adam and Matthew back into the apartment and around a corner to a sitting room. It was big for an apartment, Adam thought, but it felt full with Declan and Blue already installed into adjacent chairs bickering about something vapid, and then filling up more with the arrival of Gansey, Adam, and Matthew. Gansey perched on the arm of the chair that Blue sat in and gestured for the other two to take a seat. 

Adam sat on the empty couch and looked at this array of his friends-who-were-strangers and couldn’t stop his mind from chugging along through the details of that morning. Waking up in an apartment that he didn’t know, filled with people he didn’t quite know. He could still feel Cabeswater too strongly. 

Indecipherable shouting came from the kitchen along with the clanging of cookware against appliances, then over it all rose Ronan’s voice, “get _out_ Cheng!” 

Henry Cheng appeared around the corner, laughing, and bee-lined for Gansey. He leaned over and gave a theatrical kiss to Gansey’s messy hair, then the soft black fuzz on Blue’s crown and declared, “good _morning_ little professor! Welcome back, Blue Bird!” 

“Try calling me that again,” Blue threatened fondly. 

Adam recognized Cheng from school - he was the kind of student who enjoyed being known and had taken the student government as a cause - but Adam didn’t know him any better than the rest of the boys in their year. What he was doing floating around Blue’s apartment in the future, Adam didn’t want to examine too closely. 

Cheng was looking over at him with exaggerated wide eyes and clutched at his - nonexistent - pearls, “why, Adam is tiny again. Why did no-one tell me that we could turn back the ravages of time? Magic me up some youth!” He declared. 

“Henry,” Gansey put a hand on Cheng’s arm and nodded meaningfully towards Matthew. 

Matthew, for his part, didn’t notice this exchange, and was picking at his cuticles while staring with a vacant frown towards the kitchen where Ronan was still knocking about with loud muttering. 

Cheng smiled widely and switched subjects like it was his own idea, “Matty! We have been volunteered to do the groceries for this uncultured horde who has invaded my quiet home. Come!” 

Adam had the impression that Cheng had never been quiet a day in his life.

Matthew redirected his attention to Cheng’s loud declaration and smiled at his antics. 

Cheng looped one arm through Matthew’s and declared, “Come along quickly! If they don’t give us a list, then we can buy whatever catches our fancy!” 

Matthew allowed himself to be marched out of the room and chatted gamely with Cheng as they disappeared. 

When Adam looked away from their spectacle and back towards the room, Gansey was leaning forward towards Declan and saying earnestly, “he’ll be fine with Henry, and I think he’d just be more uncomfortable staying here right now with what we’re going to have to discuss -”

“I understand,” Declan cut him off with a business-like briskness, “I have had to manage my brothers before. Let’s get to the point.” 

Adam envied the way that Declan set aside whatever offence Gansey had seen in his expression, and so easily directed the conversation back to practicality. 

Then Declan turned to him, “Adam, we’ve determined that you’ve likely come from the past, correct?” 

Adam nodded once and clenched his hands together to keep from picking at a loose thread on the cuff of his sweater. 

Declan was already continuing as though Adam’s agreement was just a formality, “so something in the line is even more wrong than we thought.” 

Gansey eagerly jumped in, his expression familiar from discussions about Glendower. He furrowed his brows as he spoke, as though this were just another afternoon where he had to catch Adam up on his progress, “I think that if we explain what’s been going on, we might be able to figure out why you’ve been switched with the Adam from this time. We’ve been noticing irregularities - electrical surges, sudden storms coming up without warning, Ronan’s dreaming has been,” he winced, “unpredictable. But you’ve been able to keep that mostly in control.” He was fully in his element, half lost in thought and half in the explanation. He rubbed his thumb over his lip as he added with concern, “and Matthew has started to - well.” He looked to Blue beseechingly. 

“He’s started to dissociate,” Blue said bluntly, “act like he’s not totally aware of his surroundings. He’d come-to in different parts of Henrietta and not remember how he got there.” 

Declan shifted in his seat, but his expression remained impassive when Adam glanced over at him 

“It was getting too dangerous for you to stay in Henrietta,” Gansey picked up from her easily, “I invited Ronan to bring the family out here, hoping that it would lessen the effects if they weren’t on the line and we could have some more time to try and solve this problem.”

Adam tensed slightly. He could feel the power of the line in his veins still, that faint buzzing and nausea of Cabeswater insisting that he pay attention. 

“We didn’t really see as much improvement as I had hoped,” Gansey admitted, “Matthew started putting some things together and figured out that he’s a dream. He -” Gansey paused, then continued diplomatically, “didn’t take it well.” 

Adam wondered what conversation that pause glossed over. 

“And now,” Gansey gestured to Adam, “you’re here. The situation seems to be escalating, despite our efforts. In ways that we couldn’t have predicted.” 

And then they were looking at him, like he had answers. Adam recognized this moment in the conversation from afternoons spent searching for Glendower. This was the point after Gansey laid out all the facts and the group would chew on it, then turn to him and expect some new idea to pursue. 

Adam felt a rush of anger at the expectation that he put aside all the concerns he had about his life - his _job_ , his schooling, how he was going to pay _rent_ next week - and heat crawled up the back of his neck. It rose like an uncontrollable animal out of his skull. He wished that he could summon night horrors like Ronan just to let this feeling live in a different body for once. Instead, it was a howling rage that clawed in his mind and demanded to be spoken aloud with poisonous words.

Before Adam could snap out anything, Ronan thumped into the sitting room and declared, “ok nerds, food is ready.” He looked around, “where’s Matty?” 

Declan replied, clipped, “out.” 

Ronan frowned, but before he could say anything Adam found himself latching onto the distraction and asking disbelievingly, “ _you_ cooked?” 

Blue, on her way towards the kitchen, pinched Ronan’s arm and teased, “yeah, he’s such a good house-husband.” 

Ronan turned an expression on her that Adam recognized as the scowl he would deploy to cover up how pleased he was. It was strange to see such a Ronan-like expression on an unfamiliar face. 

Adam looked away before Ronan could catch him staring. 

There was a minor commotion as everyone tried to squeeze into the kitchen to grab food, then find a place to eat whether that was perched on one of the two barstools, sitting on a counter, or leaning against the doorframe. 

At some point, Ronan jokingly accused Gansey, “you keep your pans in the weirdest fucking place, man.” 

And Blue pushed back with, “he doesn’t need them because he and Henry can't _cook_ ,” while Gansey shrugged at this fair assessment. 

Adam found himself a spot sitting on the counter next to the sink and beside where Blue was leaning back with a bowl full of the thick stew. He chewed quickly on the piece of toast that he had been given to dunk into his own bowl. He hadn’t realized how hungry he’d gotten. 

Ronan leaned against the counter across the kitchen and pointed his spoon at Gansey, “so you figure out what’s happened yet?” 

“No,” Gansey admitted as he pushed his food around his bowl, “I didn’t expect the side effects of whatever is disrupting the ley line to get more pronounced when you all left it.” 

Ronan barked out a mocking laugh. 

“Don’t be a little scab,” Declan shot out a hand and must have pinched his brother hard, because Ronan danced away with a sharp grin. 

“Seriously?” Ronan rolled his eyes when no one said anything else, “this didn't come out of fucking _nowhere._ Anyone else remember the witchy ritual we held on the patio last night?” 

Declan sighed like he had the beginnings of a headache.

“That was just an attempt to communicate with Cabeswater and see if it knew what was wrong with the line,” Gansey said absently, turning the idea over in his mind, “and besides, we’ve been trying that all week without any results.”

Adam thought about the restless dreams he’d had all week with the faceless visitors lurking in the trees. He took another helping of stew.

“But,” Blue cut in, “I came back last night, which might have changed the power behind the ritual.” 

“Enough to pull past Adam into the future?” Gansey looked doubtful, “Adam was the one conducting the ritual, and he didn’t ask for this.” He turned to Ronan questioningly, “he didn’t, right?” 

Ronan shrugged, “he said the focus was to ask Cabeswater to give us what the ley line needs.” 

Adam could feel them each stealing glances over at him while he met Ronan’s appraising stare. The sound of Cabeswater’s whispers coiled in his ears. 

“So,” Ronan concluded, “it gave us Adam.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Total chapter count increased yhis update because I am editing the finale and it was getting a bit long. Cheers!


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adam attempts to talk to Cabeswater.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the hiatus. This chapter has been sitting completed since June, but I was overwhelmed with the feeling that what I'm writing isn't very good? So every time I thought of posting, I just got really nervous. I'm posting today in a burst of temporary confidence because I read the really nice comments that people have left so far! Thank you to those lovely folks, because those comments were very encouraging! 
> 
> Hope you guys enjoy this chapter :)

**2022**

“Hold on,” Blue flapped her hand at Ronan, predictably unamused by his dramatic proclamations, “hold on, so your idea is - what? That Adam swapped himself out with a younger model?” 

“No,” Ronan scowled, “that’s stupid.” 

Declan pinched his side again.

Ronan flinched and slapped his arm, “fucking _quit it_ . And listen, ok? I’m _saying_ that Adam asked Cabeswater for what was needed.” 

“And we’ve never really quantified Cabeswater’s power before,” Gansey added pensively, “it mostly runs on dream logic.” 

“So Cabeswater needs a high schooler?” Blue pressed, “you know that doesn’t make any sense, right? Adam’s been working on his Practice for over a decade - how can he be more helpful as a high schooler? No offence,” she directed these last words at Adam. 

Adam shrugged, waiting to become invisible in this room again. He agreed with her - there was no reasonable way that a magical forest searched the corners of time and chose _him_ as the best option. Especially since he was still so recently removed from the Henrietta dirt he’d picked himself up off of. He hadn’t yet earned this - he still felt like he had stumbled upon the title of Magician when he sacrificed his eyes to Cabeswater and had barely done anything to prove himself. 

Ronan kept staring him down. 

Adam’s palms itched as he kept his face impassive under the scrutiny. 

“It makes _sense_ ,” Ronan said firmly, “when you fucking consider that this isn’t our Adam.” 

Gansey looked at Adam, eyes curious behind his thick glasses, “he seems to be Adam. Just, you know, younger.” 

Adam couldn’t help but roll his eyes under the Gansey-ish scrutiny. 

“He’s _an_ Adam, he’s not our Adam,” Ronan insisted, “from a different timeline or some shit. I don’t know, this is your bullshit rodeo. Time’s a circle, we’ve all been here before, blah blah” He scowled at Gansey. 

“How do you know?” Blue asked, ever practical and looking for proof. 

“He’s just different,” Ronan said, “he wasn’t like this in high school.”

“You didn’t even go to high school with us,” Gansey looked even more confused now, but he was ignored. 

“So _sorry_ , didn’t realize that marriage gave you psychic identifying powers,” Blue needled Ronan. 

“Well it _does_ ,” Ronan pulled a face at her, “and it’s _fucking awesome._ ”

Adam, who had been rolling these details around his head all morning, spoke up, “he’s right.” 

“It’s ok,” Blue reassured him to get a rise out of Ronan, “you don’t have to let Ronan bully you into agreeing.” 

“No, listen. This can’t be my future,” Adam said quietly. He didn’t say ‘ _Because Gansey should be dead_ .’ or ‘ _Because I don’t see how my future keeps me this close to you all.’_ or ‘ _Because sometimes I think that Henrietta is going to swallow me whole and I’ll never make it further from the trailer than St. Agnes’_. Instead he looked over at Ronan and said practically, “your tattoo is gone.” 

Ronan squinted at him and pulled up his sleeve to theatrically check his forearm, “ _uh_ , no it’s not.” From elbow to wrist was a blue-purple mottling of raven’s wings and celtic knots.

“Ugh,” Blue complained at the dramatics.

“The one on your back,” Adam said. 

Gansey beamed at Adam like he was proud of him for discovering the answer, “so you’re saying that the Ronan you know is physically quite different from this Ronan.” 

Adam nodded and said drily, "it's really big. And ugly. Couldn't miss it." 

Gansey ignored Ronan childishly pulling faces and said pensively, "if that's true, then this is a case of Cabeswater finding someone with different skills perhaps. We've been assuming that since this Adam is younger, he is less practiced. But perhaps, instead, Cabeswater just needs something that you can uniquely offer." He turned his owlish eyes, full of awe, on Adam. 

Adam was saved from breaking it to Gansey that he didn't know much - could still barely read cards - by a ringtone that prompted Gansey to pull out his phone.

Gansey pressed the cell to his ear and half turned to simulate privacy. He made a few agreeing noises, then exclaimed, “goodness! Is that the time? Yes, we’ll be there momentarily. Give my excuses.” He grimaced, “yes, the usual ones. Goodbye.” 

Blue said, "afternoon with the family?"

Gansey nodded, "sorry, dear. That was Helen." 

Blue sighed hugely, then set her dishes aside, "well, if we've been summoned. Henry will be jealous if we go without him."

“I’ll text him to join us. He should be back soon anyway,” Gansey reassured her, then clapped a friendly hand on Adam's shoulder as he passed and smiled, "we'll be back this evening, so let's pick this up again later. In the meantime, make yourself at home." 

Ronan followed Gansey and Blue out of the kitchen toward the front door, his voice slightly muffled as he heckled them, "don't pull that politician bullshit, Dick."

Adam heard the response more as a tone of joking affront rather than any words in particular. He dumped his empty dishes into the cluttered sink.

Somehow after all that commotion, it was just Adam and Declan in the kitchen. 

Adam glanced from Declan to the doorway that led to the hallway. He itched to leave before anyone returned to get some quiet and order his thoughts, but somehow felt like leaving with Declan still looking at him would be too rude. 

Declan scrutinized him passively for a moment more, then tipped his head permissively towards the hall before leaving. 

Adam rankled under the dismissal, but the pressure in his head from Cabeswater encouraged him to hurry down the hall. With few options, he returned to the bedroom that he had woken up in that morning. He was looking for somewhere to avoid everyone else and take a moment to process everything without the weight of Gansey’s interest, or Blue’s sharp eye. 

Cabeswater was pressing even more insistently in his mind - the shadows of leaves danced on the edges of his vision. He was drawn back to the dresser in the room covered in souvenirs from around the world and the photographs of Blue with Gansey and the man who Adam now realized was Henry. 

To one side sat a deck of tarot cards, placed carefully so that they stacked neatly on top of each other. He’d noticed it before, while getting dressed, but hadn’t looked closely. The card designs were simple but colourful, covered in hand-drawn ink sketches of figures. They weren’t prints, but instead originals drawn carefully onto uniform rectangles of cardstock. Adam wondered who had drawn them. 

One card had been left face-up on the dresser, inverted so that the figure was on their head. 

The two of swords. 

Adam picked up the card to peer at the illustration through his growing headache. The woman in the illustration looked defiant, holding two swords firmly crossed in front of her chest, and her eyes bound by a strip of cloth. Her gown was green, and her hair was pale blonde. She stood in front of a glittering azure ocean rendered in ink and watercolour. 

His fingers itched to pull the next card, and he briefly toyed with the idea of leaving the reading to go sleep off the headache. Maybe all Cabeswater needed was some time to get used to Adam being from the wrong time.

He thought about everything that everyone else had said that morning. How Gansey seemed convinced that Adam had something unique to offer - something so important that Cabeswater pulled him from his own _life_ just to get to it. Adam didn’t quite believe it, but as with all things, he wanted to understand it. 

So he pulled the next card - The Hanged Man. 

Adam ran through the meanings of the card academically - surrender, new perspectives, suspended in time. Early in his lessons with Persephone, he had applied his mind to learning the way he did to lessons at Aglionby - research and memorize. A thorough analytical plan had never failed him before, and even now he could recite the summaries of the cards’ meanings, and what quadrant of a person’s life each suit represented. 

But right now he couldn’t ignore the intuitive reading that pulled at his mind like someone shouting in his face: Sacrifice. 

He rubbed a hand over his face and took a steadying breath. Then he looked back down at the card. The illustrations really were beautiful, but he didn’t dare pull another. He decided to talk to Cabeswater in the way it had been trying to call to him since the moment he’d woken up. Card pinched carefully in his hand, Adam left the room to search for the bath. 

It was only two doors down and designed just as modernly as the rest of the apartment with unique items scattered throughout. 

He closed the bathroom door, opened the medicine cabinet, then carefully pushed aside a jar that claimed to contain a ‘dead sea scrub’ to find the plug for the sink. He firmly stoppered the drain, turned on both taps, and let the sound of rushing water fill his thoughts. He had meant to turn off the tap so that he could scry in the still water, but before he could reach out, his vision was already obscured by dark leaves, black with rainwater and latin roaring in his deaf ear, and he was falling. 

_Hostia nostrum_

* * *

**2012**

Adam lay back down in the bedroom that, earlier, Gansey had called “Noah’s Room”. He hadn’t thought about Noah in a long time - memories of Noah were painful. They were all tangled up in that awful, difficult time at the end of high school where Adam had been convinced that he and all of his friends would be dead before graduation. That only Declan and Blue would be left standing to remember them at all. Noah had been the first to go wrong somehow - the ley line polluted and twisted with a disease that was mere months away from taking root in Adam too. 

Adam rubbed his hands heavily into his eye sockets to distract himself. His knee throbbed horribly, and no matter how expensive and fine the mattress was, sharp pain still shot down his spine in the beginning of a flare up. He’d taken an ibuprofen from the stock that Gansey had offered, but he’d already missed two doses of his meds and could feel a headache building as his skin crawled with the prickling sensations of withdrawal. He knew that fidgeting wouldn’t find him any relief, but he rolled over onto his side anyway. 

Chainsaw scratched at the door to this room, but he couldn’t muster the energy to get up again. Not after the effort it had taken to approach Ronan once that night, then placate Gansey right afterwards. He was exhausted from his body’s chronic aches, and dream walking, and attempting to manage his friend’s emotions. 

He really wished that whatever time-space fuckery had displaced him had thought to send his prescriptions along too.

Chainsaw kept up her gentle sounds for a short while longer before giving it up and leaving him be. She was drawn to him as most of Ronan’s dreamthings were. Adam used to wonder if the dreamthings sought him out because they implicitly understood that he’d pledged his magic to protect their creator, or if their interest was just a reflection of Ronan’s own affections. 

Whenever Adam had brought it up before, Ronan would get endearingly flustered, so Adam chose to assume that it was Ronan’s romantic tendencies that gave the dreamthings their inherent trust in Adam. 

The fact that Chainsaw spent so much time perched on his shoulder and curiously ruffling her beak through his hair, Adam suspected that this Ronan, too, wasn’t so different from his Ronan. 

He certainly had the same ability to set off Adam’s temper with weaponized insults just the same as the first time he’d met Ronan. But in this timeline, Niall was already dead (amen) and so Adam assumed that Ronan spent all his time in Henrietta. In this timeline, he must have spent much more time with Gansey, whose influence Adam had always known to temper Ronan’s dark moods. He thought about the bitter twist of Ronan’s expressions, and wondered why he was suffering - why his dreaming was so fraught, when this Adam should already have a head-start practicing as his dreamwalker. This Ronan had every reason to be happier.

“He’s still lost.” 

Adam startled and whipped around, his body and nerves screamed out in shock. 

Noah sat against the headboard in a muddy Aglionby uniform. He picked idly at the lumpy sheets. 

“Noah, you creepy fuck,” Adam whispered through a smile. 

Noah looked down at the bed vacantly and reminded Adam, “his father is dead now.” 

“I know,” Adam rubbed at the ache in his left wrist. 

“Sooner than in your time,” Noah’s eyes were eerie-luminous in the dim room. 

Adam was thankful for that - knowing that at least in this timeline, Ronan hadn’t been taken away from Henrietta by his father to learn the family business. That Niall Lynch had died before this Ronan had had to live with his body being used to dream up impossible artifacts. Before he’d been forced to live on the road, never stopping in one place too long because there were always new people to impress, and old enemies to outrun. Before he’d learned to feel untethered from home and family. 

“Before,” Noah added, “he could be hurt. And before your father hurts you, you love him.” 

Adam considered this. He wondered if he had any memories left from before his father beat him, and couldn’t imagine a time when his family had anything to do with love. But Niall Lynch was a charismatic fucker, from what he’d heard. If all this Ronan had was fond memories of a man who was larger-than-life, then Adam could understand why he’d be driven to dark nightmares of the memory of his loss.

Noah nodded, “he’s just grieving.” 

Adam sighed lightly, “missed your weird mind reading, Noah.” 

Noah smiled now, looking more like a boy than a memory, and poked teasingly at Adam’s cheek.

“I need him to help me solve this,” Adam swatted Noah’s hand away and continued more seriously, “I need him to trust me.” 

“He trusts you,” Noah said immediately, “when it counts.” 

“When?” 

“In the future” 

Adam wondered how long he would have to wait for that future. He had a feeling that, as usual, time was not on his side.

* * *

**2022**

After Ronan had shut the door behind Gansey and Blue, Declan found him in the apartment’s tiny front hall. It was a truncated little thing with a coat closet on one side and full of too many shoes from all the guests. 

“Be careful,” Declan began. 

Ronan, still turned half towards the door, grit his teeth and jammed his hands in his back pockets. In an attempt to divert the sanctimonious older-brother lecture he could feel stewing, he bit out, “get the fuck off your high horse.” 

Declan’s voice remained level, “he admitted it himself - he’s not the Adam we know.” 

Ronan was well familiar with this mask. It was the one that Declan pasted on over all his soft parts to pretend he was indestructible in the face of Ronan’s self-immolation. But Ronan hadn’t felt particularly incendiary until Declan turned that old impassive face on him. 

“He’s still _Adam_.” Ronan grit out. 

“You don’t know him,” Declan insisted, “if he came here because of the changes in the ley line, he could be even more dangerous.” 

Ronan hears the unspoken “dangerous to you.” And as obtuse as Declan thought he was, Ronan knew his brother’s moods. He could see that Declan had a plan for what would happen if Adam was dangerous. That had been his job since he could pull off the suit and tie to pass for 21 at age 16 - to make contingencies to deal with their family’s fall-out. But if Declan had a job, so did Ronan. 

Ronan had always been the engine, and his blood roared to life under the implied mistrust.

“I can tell the difference between them,” Ronan tried to get his coiled muscles to relax. He failed and could feel his spine curling into a fighting stance reflexively. 

Declan continued, “and if the theory is true and he’s called here because he has a power that Adam doesn’t, then you have to be careful of what he can do.” 

“Fuck off,” Ronan warned.

Declan didn’t fuck off. He did what he’d always done - take the dirtiest job and say what Ronan least wanted to hear, “we can't trust him. He doesn’t care about you.” 

Ronan angrily shoved his feet into a pair of boots and didn't bother to lace them up before slamming open the front door. He wasn’t wearing socks, didn’t have his wallet or keys, and it didn’t matter because he’d gone _months_ without punching Declan and he wasn’t going to break that streak now.

He stormed out of the apartment, thundered down the echoing concrete stairwell, and slammed past the fancy doorman. He was an oil-slick alight with thoughts rushing through his head. 

The more rational ones came first - Declan only locked down his reactions when he was worried. Declan probably said this to him privately because he knew that Ronan wouldn’t want to explode in front of Gansey. Declan _knew_ that his brothers wore their hearts on the outside and he had always tried to be their shield, even though the world didn’t _work_ like that. 

These thoughts were pushed aside for the louder, overwhelming onslaught of emotion that Ronan had been telling himself a job well done for keeping a handle on for the past two weeks.

Things had been so fucked _up_ with Matthew lately, and Ronan had been chafing under the scrutiny. Were Matthew’s issues there because Ronan was too messed up to dream up a brother with agency? Was there some fundamental short-coming dreamed into every living dreamthing that he pulled out? Was that why Cabeswater had been acting so strange - it was dreamed with flaws too? He tried to recall a tender memory of his mother - a glittering dream herself - and think back to her warm laugh. Was her life only as bright as his father had let it be? Ronan doubted that he had a single true memory left of her that wasn’t warped through the grief of losing her the way he did. Had Ronan dreamed a best-before date into his own _family_? 

And now his _husband_ was fucking _missing_ and the last thing he needed was a brother made of ice - impassive and unimpressed with Ronan’s attempts to be whole and not some broken thing that their father had unmade.

The thing is. The thing. Is. 

Ronan _trusts_ Adam. 

Present-tense, no qualifiers. It didn’t matter to him if this Adam could pull the sun down out of the sky and set the coast on fire. Adam was easy to understand once you knew what was driving him. And Ronan had spent the better part of a decade devoted to studying what made Adam tick. For all the angry, hurt parts of Adam that he worried made him inhuman and unlovable, Ronan had never been worried that Adam would purposefully hurt them. 

Ronan had been raised with magic that would grant your grandest wishes and then turned you inside out and feasted on your guts in thanks. He had been raised and betrayed and misused by a man who shared his face and then told to be grateful. He _knew_ what it was to be hurt by something you cherished. And there was still a part of him that believed with his whole heart - there was no universe that could spit out an Adam that he couldn’t love.

He cursed under his breath at his own bleeding heart. 

Ronan stomped around the block one more time to really get his frustration out. He stopped in a convenience store and toyed with the idea of buying a pack of smokes before remembering that his wallet was back at Gansey’s. 

Then returned to Gansey’s apartment because he didn’t want to make any more impulsive decisions in an attempt to quiet his thoughts. In the front hall, he could see Cheng’s expensive sneakers and hear Matthew talking to Declan in the kitchen, so he avoided them and took a quick turn into the hall leading towards the bedrooms. 

Without realizing his return to a comforting habit, he checked for Adam - first in the room that they were sharing. Adam wasn’t there and Ronan spent a moment considering if it was worth going out into the kitchen where he would probably make Matthew uncomfortable. As he crossed back down the hallway, he heard the water running in the bathroom from the sink and almost ignored it. But there was a shallow, glistening pool of water on the hardwood coming from under the bathroom door. There were leaves in it. 

Ronan reached for the knob reflexively and turned it. It wasn’t locked - luckily - and it swung open to show him Adam leaned over the sink, gripping the sides of it with fingers gone white and bloodless. 

“What the fuck?” Ronan took one wet step towards Adam and realized that Adam was completely unresponsive. 

He hadn’t blinked when the door opened, or when Ronan had spoken. 

He wasn’t breathing. 

His eyes were fixed on the water in the sink that continued to overflow - dark, spiked leaves floated lazily on the surface. 

Ronan reached over and shut the tap off with one hand, then reached out to touch Adam’s shoulder. Every time he’d come close to touching Adam that morning, the teenager had flinched, but this time he remained rigid and unaware. 

Until all at once his body flung itself forward away from Ronan and he nearly brained himself on the counter. Adam heaved in a huge breath.

Ronan lunged forward to stop Adam from hitting the sink and ended up holding Adam’s thin frame awkwardly and looking at the crown of his head.

“Give it back,” Adam was mumbling, holding the back of his neck with his hands and gasping in long, heaving pulls. 

They were slowly lowering down to the wet floor where leaves swirled in little eddies because Adam wasn’t holding up his weight, and Ronan didn’t have the leverage to do it for him. 

“What the fuck dude,” Ronan said again, “you flooded the bathroom.” 

Adam’s pale face snapped up to look at him. His voice was raspy and not his own, demanding in halting latin, “ _give him back, give him back_.” 

Adam's eyes were the wrong colour - an oil-slick black glittering in his pale face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Future!Adam having fibromyalgia is an idea that was totally inspired by EtoileGarden who has written so much amazing Pynch content. Getting to read all their amazing stories is the entire reason I’ve written this.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Blue and Adam walk the ley line.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Thank you everyone who commented so encouragingly on the last chapter. I appreciate every single bookmark, subscription, kudos, and comment on this story :) It is a really self-indulgent fic for me, so I feel pretty vulnerable posting it out here. Thank you for all of your support!  
> Ok, I can’t wait to share the rest of this story with you all, so I hope you enjoy this chapter too!
> 
> CW: canon level discussion of major character death and abuse.

**2022**

“Ok,” Ronan said, “this is the part of the movie where you tell me what the hell is going on.”

Adam perched on the edge of the bed in Gansey's spare room in damp jeans and a mistrustful expression. 

Ronan had just finished mopping up the muddy water from the bathroom floor with a significant number of the fluffy white towels from Gansey’s linen closet. His jeans were soaked too, and he was still riding the high of the fight with Declan earlier, so he wasn’t looking forward to trying to cool his temper. 

At least Adam’s face looked familiar again, and not twisted in fear and drained of colour like a faded photograph. His eyes were human again.

Ronan ran his hands through his hair and tugged slightly before he let out a gusty sigh. He sat heavily next to Adam, flopped backwards on the bed, and rubbed his face with both hands. He was used to Adam clamming up on him while he worked out his thoughts. But he wasn’t sure if this Adam would un-clam eventually.

“I don’t know,” Adam said so quietly that Ronan almost missed it. 

Ronan grunted questioningly. 

“I don’t know what’s going on,” Adam clarified in a steady voice, “you know better than I do.”

Ronan could see how much effort Adam was putting into staying in control of his reactions. But Ronan couldn’t quite keep the heat out of his voice when he asked, “that why you decided to scry alone?”

Adam tipped his head in mild agreement. 

Ronan stared at the quarter profile of this young man he once knew and said lowly, “that’s how you die, idiot. Doing that shit alone is how your soul goes walkabout and good fucking luck getting back home from that.” 

Adam turned to look over his shoulder at where Ronan was spread out on the bed. His disdainful, blank face said “I know that” and his mouth said, “what do you want, Lynch?”

Ronan let the hurt from that question spark against the pilot light of anger that always seemed to be ready in his chest. Then, because he knew each one of Adam’s survival tactics inside and out and he knew when he was being pushed away, he said angrily, “I want to help you.”

Adam stood from the bed and pulled a tarot card from his pocket - the hanged man. It was bent, but luckily still dry, and he strode over to the stack of cards that were on the dresser. Adam seemed to consider the cards turned face-up there, then turned to face Ronan. 

“Okay,” he slouched back against the dresser and said, “so tell me why I’m here.” 

Ronan turned his head to look at him, “what did you see in the water?” 

Adam shook his head, “no, tell me why I’m here. You _know_. You know Cabeswater.” 

“I don’t know,” Ronan was frustrated because this Adam wasn’t cooperating an inch, but wanted all the answers, “everything I know I already told Gans earlier. We figured out that Cabeswater was draining the line and asked it what it needed.”

Adam wrinkled his nose in thought and turned the bent tarot card in one hand, running a graceful fingertip along the fuzzed edge. 

Ronan stared at him as he had been doing all day. 

“So,” Adam said, he stared cooly back at Ronan like he could see right through him, “the question is really what do I know that the present Adam doesn’t.” He tipped his head slightly in a gesture so familiar that Ronan’s heart ached. 

Fuck, this is what Declan had meant. 

Ronan said gruffly, “yeah I guess.” 

Adam looked at Ronan, “and you’re the person most likely to know the difference between us.”

Ronan realized that he was staring at his hand on the duvet. At his ring. He clenched his hand in a fist and ran the tip of his thumb along the smooth edge of metal. Over the frantic, embarrassing pulse of his heart, Ronan smirked and said, “seems that way.” 

Adam let his cool gaze settle over Ronan’s face. 

Ronan wondered what he saw there. If his past of guilt and anger was writ large on his features. Or if he was - in the timeless words of his local barista - just another handsome motherfucker who needed a shave. Adam - his Adam - always looked like he was reading the thoughts straight out of Ronan’s head. Ronan was caught in the longing of relying on someone to know him so well.

Then Adam looked away, blandly, to set the card aside, “ok, then tell me what he can do.” 

And Ronan still had the distinct impression that Adam was holding something back. Petulantly, Ronan groaned, “I don’t keep a ‘compendium on Adam’s skills’, _jesus_.” 

This young Adam leveled him with that knowing look and said drily, “lying doesn’t suit you, Lynch.” 

* * *

**2012**

“Blue! Your boys are here!” 

Blue rolled her eyes at Orla’s shouting and tugged on an old cardigan. She hadn’t finished attaching the patch to fix the hole in the pocket, but she figured so long as no one asked her to hold their spare change, she would be fine. Her backpack had enough pockets to make up for it anyway. 

Orla was still teasing her from downstairs, so Blue shouted back, “hold your horses! I’m coming!” while she thudded down the stairs to the front room where Orla was lounging on a settee in front of the wide front window. 

Blue peeked around the lace curtains and didn’t see anyone in the front other than the chickens that Gwenllian had started ‘raising’. They mostly had the run of the yard with little oversight from the wild woman. Blue’s mother had started getting dirty looks from the neighbours whenever they found a stray chicken in their gardens.

Blue scowled at Orla, “there’s no one there.” 

Orla studied the edge of her nail, “there’s about to be.” 

And then, as though in service of Orla’s theatrics, the Hondayota pulled into the gravel drive behind Calla’s van and idled there. 

Blue rolled her eyes and hurried to shove her feet into her boots and then shot out of the front door. She had on hiking boots with reinforced steel toes that she’d gotten on clearance. The only sizes available were a bit big on her, though, so she was also wearing two pairs of socks and every step felt satisfyingly weighty. She was looking forward to stomping around outside for the morning.

Other Adam leaned out the driver’s side window and looked down at the curious chicken that had started pecking the car tire. He looked up as Blue approached and pointed down at the chicken jokingly, “this your dinner?” 

“That’s Gwenllian’s idea of a pet,” Blue replied archly. 

Adam’s face pinched slightly as it did when something she had said didn’t match up with what he knew. Gansey liked to jump right in and start giving context, but Blue had just been waiting for Adam to ask if he wanted to know something. She didn’t feel like guessing what had confused him, and half the time whatever he didn’t know hadn’t seemed that important anyway. Adam eventually said, “the witch in your attic decided to keep chickens in the middle of Henrietta? At least I keep my chickens on a farm where they won't get run over.”

Blue nodded in agreement then shooed the chicken away. She pulled the rear door of the Hondayota open and climbed in. The front passenger door had started to stick, so she had to climb in the back, over the gearshift, and into the front passenger’s seat. She made it in after a bit of fumbling and bumping against the roof of the interior. 

Adam shifted into gear and reversed out of the driveway as she buckled herself in. She settled her backpack between her feet and said, “Gwenllian’s annoying, but she’s ok. the last person to stay in my attic tried to wake the ley line and then went missing, so.” She trailed off with a shrug.

“Of course she did,” Adam sighed and turned out of the neighbourhood. 

They were headed out to the ley line. The day prior Adam had mentioned that he wanted to take a look to see if it had any clues for why he had been displaced. 

Gansey had been gung-ho about the group activity, then realized that he had pre-semester rowing practice and that Ronan would be busy with Church. He’d been torn, even though Adam and Blue had both reassured him that they would tell him everything. At one point Gansey had danced around saying that it might not be a good idea for Blue to go since she’d be alone with Adam. Blue had then scowled fiercely at him and sarcastically asked when _was_ the last time she had asked for a chaperone and what century, exactly, he thought they were in. 

Gansey had back-pedalled from that so hard that Adam had laughed at them. Then he admitted that having anyone come along with him would probably just make his job harder. He’d added that Blue would actually be helpful with her ability to boost his scrying, but that Gansey’s energy was just too loud compared to their ley line. 

After another round of reassurances that they’d take notes and meet him at Monmouth to go over _everything_ , Gansey had given up. 

So now Blue was speeding towards the outskirts of Henrietta with this Other Adam. From the door pocket, she tugged out the fold-up map - the kind sold at rest-stops and gas stations - and unfolded the accordion paper. Gansey had marked the path of the ley line onto it. 

Blue traced a finger along, peeking up to see what streets they were passing, and then asked, “we’re heading away from Cabeswater?” 

“Yeah,” Adam agreed, “I want to get a good read on the line. It’s really weak so going to any of the points where there’s too much going on would be too distracting. I want to get out of town altogether. Here we go.” He took a hard right off the road and steered them down a gravel driveway that widened out into a sad dirt parking lot in front of the church that she’d visited with Neeve earlier that year on St. Mark’s Eve. 

Blue thought briefly of that evening where she had seen Gansey for the first time. 

Adam killed the engine and convinced the hand brake to engage before he slid out of the driver’s seat. 

Blue retraced her path to get out of the Hondayota via the back seat. As she was wiggling her backpack out along with her, Adam pulled the back door open for her and said, “could you grab - “ 

She automatically reached down to the backseat and her hand landed on a metal cane and since Adam nodded at that action, she reflexively handed it to him before sliding out the back door and slamming the door shut. It took two tries to get the latch to catch. 

Adam stood a few feet from her wearing a tennis jersey - she had never seen him play tennis and suspected that he was mostly borrowing clothes from Monmouth - and leaning on the cane while he peered out into the cemetery. 

Despite the uncomfortable, morbid memories Blue had of this place, the day was sunny almost in defiance of her expectations. The grass was a bit brown from a dry summer, but thick between the gravestones, and she could hear the familiar trilling of birds. 

Adam surveyed the stones for a moment, then said, “yeah, this is a good place for us to start.” He half turned back towards Blue and gestured for her to follow, “c’mon.” 

She took long strides to catch up with him. They skirted around the edge of the graveyard on a narrow dirt path, then Adam led them to a rusty back gate that took some convincing, but eventually they were released into a field that sprawled out behind the churchyard. Adam seemed to know where they were going even though their path was unmarked in the long grass, so Blue just walked beside him in silence and enjoyed the sun. 

After a few minutes of this, she asked, “are we looking for something in particular?” 

Adam scratched absently at his neck with his free hand, “nah, this is going to be pretty boring for you, unfortunately. I’m just trying to,” he sighed, “it sounds so woo-woo. But I’m trying to feel the power in the line - see if there’s any left-over evidence of how I got here.” 

Blue shrugged and kicked a pebble out of her way, “Don’t forget I grew up on woo-woo. I was born in the woo-woo.” 

Adam laughed a little at that, “fair.” 

“Hey,” Blue asked, before she could doubt herself, “can I ask you a question about the future?” 

Adam looked down at her with mild curiosity and said, “it’s not your future.”

“I know,” Blue said plainly, “but I still want to ask.” 

“Ok.” 

“So,” Blue’s throat closed up and she pulled at the straps of her backpack. She couldn’t look at him, “how is Gansey?” 

Adam paused in the tall grass, but they were walking slowly enough that Blue noticed and stopped with him. She looked up at him. 

His expression was pinched as though he was trying to puzzle something out. He had tiny crows feet around his Henrietta-sky eyes, “Blue, do you know-?”

“He’s going to die this year,” Blue cut in, the words escaping around the massive fear in her throat. She so often tried to look away from this fact that she had very little practice speaking it out loud. 

Adam nodded, his expression was grim, “yes.” 

“Does your Gansey die?” Blue asked quietly. 

Adam considered this. Finally he said, “he’s fine now, but it was the hardest thing we’ve ever had to do. Saving his life.” 

“How did it happen?” Blue tried to keep her expression even, to convince him that she could handle whatever he was about to say. But with the way Adam was looking at her, she didn’t think that she was very successful. 

“A kiss,” Adam said carefully, and tried to joke, “like a fairytale prince.” He sobered up when neither of them found it funny and offered, “there was a real fight to keep the curse from taking him. Almost killed me in the process.” 

Blue rubbed her hand over dry eyes angrily. She couldn’t picture it - what Gansey would look like unfamiliar and dead at her feet. Adam swallowed up by the ground. Noah vanishing into his own trauma. Everyone she had met that summer who made her feel that anything was possible - gone. 

Then, meanly wanting the attention off of her own hurt, she asked gruffly, “that what happened to your leg?”

Adam looked a bit surprised at the question, “ah, uh, no.” 

Here she expected Adam to clam up, but instead he braced himself and leaned into a vulnerability that she was unfamiliar receiving from him. 

He dropped his eyes to the dusty dirt at her feet and said, “I’m not used to- I guess anyone who knows was there, so it’s a bit. Well. Anyway. My parents weren’t. So good. An’ we didn’t really have the money for the hospital so sometimes even when I was hurt. Real bad. I’d have to just let it set by itself.” 

Memories of her Adam bruised and wary filled the pauses in the explanation. Blue wished she hadn’t asked. She wished that her Adam trusted her enough to tell her about his parents himself instead of hearing it from _this_ Adam, or Gansey clumsily telling her that Adam had moved to St Agnes. She had pieced it together before, but it was awful to hear so straight-forwardly, even as Adam skirted around explicit descriptions.

“So I’ve had a few fractures in this leg,” Adam continued, “and a real bad break in my last year of high school. Something in my knee didn’t heal right. Then I spent too many years refusing the help I needed, so now I just keep one of these around." He tapped the cane against the dirt. "Actually, your mom gave me this one yesterday. Apparently she figured I’d need it.” 

Blue looked him over, this stranger who looked so much like her friend, “you gonna be fine for walking the line?” 

Adam snorted a laugh, “yeah, I’ll be fine. C’mon, let’s keep moving.”

This struck Blue as a more familiar streak of stubbornness, but it wasn’t her job to force him to maintain his limits. So she just followed after him, her large boots crunching in the dry grass and dirt. 

“So why did you think we were going to Cabeswater before? Do you think it could be part of the cause of all this?” Adam asked her when they had hit their stride again. 

“It’s just where we usually go,” she shrugged, “Cabeswater is always Gansey’s first stop when we’re looking for Glendower.” 

Adam nodded thoughtfully, “this time I wanted to focus on the line, not so much on whatever Cabeswater is cooking up this week. The ley line and Cabewater _are_ different things.” 

“Yeah, but,” Blue could hear the rush of water somewhere up ahead, “Cabeswater’s _on_ the line. It’s always affected by whatever the line is doing. And wouldn’t it be the most familiar part for you?”

“It’s not,” Adam looked over at her. His brow was furrowed in clear confusion, “Cabeswater belongs to Ronan more than anything. I’m barely involved with it. I mean,” he amended, “as much as I ever am involved with Ronan’s dreamthings.” 

Blue screwed up her face because she remembered that dangerous night not long ago when it felt like everything was set in motion. The night that one of the Aglionby teachers had hunted Gansey down and tried to kill him like he’d killed Noah. 

She said, “Cabeswater’s the source of your power.” She could remember the strangeness that had started to live inside Adam after that night, “ever since you sacrificed your hands and eyes to it.” 

A look of intrigued horror crossed Adam’s face, “I did _what?”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I always like listening to author's playlists to get into the mood of a fic so...  
> Here, have some highlights of my writing playlist:  
> 1\. [Always Tired - Weathers](https://open.spotify.com/track/0qlS7ujzdsfipYeyR1EbCR)  
> 2\. [ Tongue & Stutter - I The Victor](https://open.spotify.com/track/6jNYQhBijOeX7rwddmIIig)  
> 3\. [Good Day - Cypress & Co.](https://open.spotify.com/track/0AT4G1LKSZy1J9GzcoDM8B)  
> 4\. [Things Will Get Better - Vian Izak](https://open.spotify.com/track/4SqY3qPrWrlflzbFbF3WST)  
> 5\. [Ooh Ahh (My Life Be Like) - Grits](https://open.spotify.com/track/2cGJxXXIBrxMhk2fWUJTLs)  
> 6\. [It’s Alright - Mother Mother](https://open.spotify.com/track/1NCZMAnGrzUmpBzkBlJjNw)  
> 7\. [Hypotheticals - I The Victor](https://open.spotify.com/track/1I4KMaAdUKelCbR2vwKDib)  
> 8\. [Panic Attack - Lizza Anne](https://open.spotify.com/track/6dOLMdN8ko2euEF6aHsVHP)  
> 9\. [Come Home - We are the Guests](https://open.spotify.com/track/2xmUagLBgCQ2p58ld8yQOq)  
> 10\. [The Valley - The Oh Hellos](https://open.spotify.com/track/5kqyZy0WrBpSoLPy7ojjzx)  
> 11\. [Solringen - Wardruna](https://open.spotify.com/track/01pGPwb1OkC5JflWmcqeYQ)  
> 12\. [Who Are You, Really? - Mikky Ekko](https://open.spotify.com/track/2zXKqJFHefEgjlg3rYW7Rx)  
> 13\. [It’s Just A Lot - K.Flay](https://open.spotify.com/track/0DMkb3M02nKYqgdHQs7hKp)  
> 14\. [I Was Just a Kid - Nothing But Thieves](https://open.spotify.com/track/3n131e7wExc4paKrq5Zyi1)  
> 15\. [Contagious - Night Riots](https://open.spotify.com/track/4aBBDcUCc1pK6zOQ8QxCg3)  
> 16\. [That’s Okay - The Hush Sound](https://open.spotify.com/track/50LJbIrbgHDcKnzCx8oyNg)  
> 17\. [Murky - Saint Mesa](https://open.spotify.com/track/7lnhH2bKqUpX6lsWymp5tk)  
> 18\. [We Want War - These New Puritans](https://open.spotify.com/track/2s78y1uxCUalOMAlWn3nHS)  
> 19\. [Back In School - Mother Mother](https://open.spotify.com/track/0UD6mo4q4YiH5GnSfvNNP5)
> 
> And of course:  
> 20\. [Home to Me - Devil and the Deep Blue Sea](https://open.spotify.com/track/2I2mDjNl9SAdbQtUFsmTE7)
> 
> I have up to chapter 13 written out, and the remaining chapters outlined. So there is definitely a plan! Also, since I have no self-control, the chapter word-counts are increasing as I go. If you ask any questions about up-coming story events in the comments, I might not give too much away to keep spoilers out of the comments. But please feel free to add anything that you are curious about!


	8. Chapter 8

**2022**

“Adam’s gone.” 

Ronan peered blearily up into Gansey’s worried face. He must have accidentally crashed on the couch. He remembered deciding the night before to leave Adam alone to sleep and had set up camp in the living room with no intention of sleeping. 

For the first time in years, Ronan didn’t trust his dreaming. The ley line was too unpredictable lately and Adam wasn’t even around to help temper the power of his dreams. But being in Gansey’s home had soothed him as always, and he’d fallen asleep. His dream had been empty and lonely.

Ronan rubbed at the sleep in his eye and levered himself upright, “hell, Gans, I know I know. There’s a tiny Adam running around now. It’s not news.” 

“No, I mean,” Gansey’s expression was pinched. He’d barely had time to throw on his dressing robe over a matching pajama set, “he’s gone too.” 

Ronan froze. 

“He just called,” Gansey offered, cell in hand. 

“Did he fucking  _ run? _ ” Ronan growled, heart in his throat. He’d  _ trusted _ that little asshole.

“I don’t think he had a choice,” Gansey said and hurried at Ronan’s dark expression, “he sounded - look. I think it was the ley line. He said he woke up in a ditch somewhere. We’re lucky he managed to find a house who let him borrow their phone to call. He sounded scared, Ro.” 

Ronan pushed himself up and out of the room towards the front hall. His pulse pounded in anger fueled by fear. 

Gansey followed behind him and said, “I’m going to get him. I just wanted you to know.” 

“I’ll go,” Ronan shoved his boots on and dug through the vinyl bowl for his car keys.

Gansey paused a moment, wide eyes red with sleeplessness. He struggled looking after the both of them. He couldn't stop. He’d spent so much of his time finding ways to take care of them - all of them - that his first instinct was always to rush to their aide. In the soft shadows of the pre-dawn apartment, Gansey looked every inch his self-sacrificing friend who had saved him over and over until he’d almost  _ died _ from it. 

“You haven’t even slept. I’ll go,” Ronan let him turn over the idea in his mind for a second, then said quietly, firmly, “tell me where he is, Gans.” 

Gansey mumbled, “uhm, I wrote it down. Hold on.” And after a moment of searching he pulled a scrap of paper out of his housecoat pocket. 

Ronan took one look at the address and tapped it into the GPS on his phone, “ _ christ _ , that’s halfway to Henrietta.” 

Gansey nodded seriously and nervously rubbed a hand over his mouth. 

“C’mere,” Ronan held out one arm even as he examined the map and mentally calculated how long it would take him to get there.

Gansey stepped into the half-hug and squeezed Ronan tightly around the chest, “it’s all getting more complicated. Every time I close my eyes I think ‘what will go wrong next?’” 

“Get some sleep you goddamn maniac,” Ronan said fondly, then patted Gansey’s back firmly, “let Henry and Blue cuddle some of this fucking energy out of you. Heh. Fucking energy.” 

Gansey made a little noise and stepped away, “gross.” 

Ronan grinned wide at his friend’s exaggerated disgust, shrugged on a jacket over yesterday’s clothes, and opened the apartment door. 

“Drive safe,” Gansey called. 

Ronan threw a rude salute back at him and jogged towards the stairs. In a burst of nervous energy it took him barely ten minutes to get to the nearby parking garage where he’d been keeping his car and hit the road. 

For weeks he’d been on edge, waiting for the call that  _ Matthew _ had gone missing - that he’d gotten too dream-dazed to stop walking the line and had walked straight to the coast. This  _ wasn’t _ how it was supposed to go. Adam was his constant. Even when he didn’t have the solution, he was at least always  _ there. _

Ronan cranked his music and accelerated down the empty predawn highway. 

* * *

Hours later, Ronan wasn’t sure what to expect when he neared the address that he’d plugged into his phone. He’d had to turn on the GPS again when he got off the highway to help him navigate through the back roads that crossed dustily between farm fields. He pulled up a long drive half-obscured by trees and then saw Adam sitting on a wrap-around wooden porch next to a tall woman who looked like she could be his grandma. Adam was in his pajamas, wrapped in a blanket, and holding a chipped mug.

Ronan pulled the car around on the gravel next to the muddy pick-up. He opened the door and watched Adam’s face go tight when he stepped out. 

Right. Adam was expecting Gansey. And Gansey's diplomatic, all-american manner would have probably been the perfect way to distract from a teenage boy appearing on this stranger’s farm in the middle of the night without shoes. Instead they had Ronan whose skill set seemed to begin and end at "maim and confuse".

The older woman leaned over to Adam to tell him something. Her expression said that she didn’t trust Ronan.

But that was a message that Ronan was used to hearing. He knew what he looked like - sharp and dangerous - because he’d cultivated that on purpose. So he draped himself over the open door, pasted on his most charming, mocking Lynch smile, and called out, “morning, Adam.” It was 3 am at best. 

What did she think had happened? What had Adam told her? Christ, she probably thought  _ he  _ was the reason Adam had run.

Adam turned to the old woman as she quietly spoke to him, and then said, Henrietta sweet, “it’s alright, ma’am. Thank you for your hospitality.” He folded up the crocheted blanket from around his shoulders before placing it on the wooden bench that they had been waiting on.

And Ronan could see how he’d used his familiar, rolling Henrietta honey accent and quiet manners to soothe someone into letting him borrow their phone. 

As Adam approached the car, he asked, “is Gansey with you?” 

Ronan shook his head and sent a mock friendly wave at the woman who was still watching them from the porch, “just you and me, sweetheart.” 

Adam eyed the car, then slid into the passenger’s seat. When Ronan joined him and started the engine, he said, “I need to go to Henrietta.” 

“What you need is a collar and bell,” Ronan said grimly and hooked his arm around the passenger headrest so that he could turn to look out the rear window as he backed up along the winding drive, “no one heard you leave. Gansey wasn’t even  _ asleep _ . What the hell, Adam.” 

Ronan thought back to the conversation the evening before where he’d explained his Adam’s power. How this Adam had flushed darkly when he’d learned that his Adam had pledged his fledgling abilities - innately blooming from the power running through Henrietta - to the Greywarren of their ley line. That this pledge was a commitment that had saved their lives before. It was clear to Ronan that Adam had not done this in his own timeline. The source of his power was a mystery to Ronan. This Adam had offered no information in return and Ronan knew that he was stewing on a theory.

“If you know something, you have to tell me,” Ronan said darkly.

Adam absently played with the spare change that was in the cup holders, and clumsily attempted to divert the conversation, “thought you’d drive the BMW.” 

Ronan scowled and thought of the black BMW he had learned to drive in, “why would I have that jack-off’s car?” 

He could feel Adam’s eyes on the side of his face and let him look. He shifted up a gear as they sped dustily along this straight road back towards the highway. 

Then, after coming to some private conclusion, Adam said, “pull over here.” 

And Ronan, pissed because he was afraid, accelerated and revved the engine to feign rebellion before pulling over to the rolling curb in the middle of nowhere. 

Adam got out before he could even cut the engine. 

Ronan climbed out after him as Adam paced around to the front of the car to stand in the yellow headlights. Adam stood there. Every length of him was sharp defiance.

* * *

The gravel of the curb cut into Adam's feet as he squared off across from Ronan. He had needed to get out of that car. He could feel the thrum of Cabeswater that pulled at him, urgently telling him that they were going away from Henrietta. 

"We're going the wrong way," Adam said firmly, "take me to Henrietta." He felt sick at the sheer need to return to his hometown. Would it always feel like this? Would he always crave Cabeswater? How could he ever escape it?

"No," Ronan said, "we're going back to Dick's and we're going to figure out what is going on." 

Everything was out of his control. He needed to get home before his future was ruined. He needed to get to Cabeswater. Adam got up in his face and demanded, "since when did you go running back to Gansey?" 

He could see the defiant anger flare in Ronan. He relied on this - Ronan chafing under Gansey's leash - to convince him to turn the car around. 

But Ronan didn't move, just stood frozen with his eyes scrutinizing Adam's face. Their shadows were cast long-legged on the road.

Adam shouted now, to push him, he  _ needed  _ Cabeswater, "I know what to do. I need to go back." To his present. To Henrietta. To the future he was building for himself, "take me back before it's too late." The sound of a storm ripping through the forest howled past them. Adam was a live wire.

Anger shook in his shoulders as Ronan muttered, "fuck, Adam, your  _ eyes _ ." 

They were so close that Adam couldn't read his expression half lit by headlights and half shadow. 

Adam wondered if he could steal the keys to the car. It always came down to what he could do by himself. Ronan said something but Adam couldn’t hear it over the latin chanting in his ears -  _ Hostia nostrum Hostia nostrum Hostia nostrum -  _ it was the drum beat of his racing heart. 

Urged on by the wild energy that sang in his body, Adam surged up and pressed his mouth to Ronan's and pulled him into a biting kiss. The storm in his blood roared. He wrapped an arm around Ronan's neck to jerk him down to his level. Foreign joy flared under his ribs because Ronan was kissing him  _ back,  _ hard and responsive _.  _ His mouth was hot and wet under Ronan’s. His hand brushed against the rough stubble on Ronan’s cheek. Pressed together, chest to chest, Adam could feel the power coiled inside Ronan. His heart thundered in his throat.

Then Ronan put a hand on his shoulder and shoved him away. 

Adam felt the energy drain straight out of him. All of Cabeswater's roaring cut off. Adam stumbled backwards, grappling with the hollowness of absence - of being alone in his head for the first time since he'd arrived in this future. Cabeswater was gone. The only sounds were the crickets in the fields surrounding them.

Then Ronan growled, "don't fucking try that." 

Adam panted into the stillness, weary eyes trained on the curl of Ronan’s fists.

"You can't just fucking-" Ronan angrily turned away and paced out into the dimness of the road outside the headlight beams. Then he came back, frustration barely leashed, "you just have to  _ tell me _ . What you  _ need _ ." 

In contrast to how he felt now, Adam could look objectively at the obsession that Cabeswater had planted in him. The hook it had latched in his brain to reel him back. He remembered that this had happened before. That Cabeswater had caused him to walk the line from Gansey's parents' house in DC because it had work for him to do. Cabeswater had work for him to do.

So even though Adam felt shaky and didn't know if he trusted these people who looked so much like his friends, he said, "I'm Cabeswater's. It needs me." He swallowed and offered his hands palms up, "everything I am. It gave me. It needs me to fix it." 

Ronan stared at him. 

Adam wondered what he was looking for. 

Ronan asked quietly, "what did you see in the water?" 

"I'm it's hands and eyes," Adam struggled to explain this unknowable, strange part of himself, "I sacrificed them to Cabeswater. It needs me to," he waved his hands at himself, "represent it. Help it." 

_ Hostia nostrum _

Ronan stared at him, his own face unreadable and hard in the dark. Then turned on his heel towards the car and called back, "get in the car." 

Adam didn't know if he had convinced Ronan. When he slid back into the passenger’s side, Ronan tugged a blanket out from the back seat, tossed it to Adam, then threw the car into drive. Adam was too tired to continue arguing or come up with a new plan to get to Henrietta. He felt like he hadn’t slept in days. He pulled the blanket up to make up for the thin pjs he wore. The blanket smelled a bit like a dog and was covered in fur. 

When they reached the highway, Ronan took the onramp with signs that pointed them towards the towns around Henrietta. They were speeding towards Cabeswater.

Adam didn’t want to thank Ronan, though he figured that he should. He also didn’t want to apologize for the kiss because even though it had been Cabeswater’s desperation that caused him to act, he had been the one to enjoy it. He was euphoric and ashamed of the feeling that flared within him. Embarrassed at Ronan’s reaction to push him away. 

He wasn’t stupid. He knew that Ronan and he were married - Ronan and the  _ other Adam _ were married. But that did nothing to calm the uncertain part of him that had stopped him from returning Ronan’s weighted looks all summer.

Ronan tossed his cell at Adam and said, “call Gansey. He won’t sleep until he hears from you.” 

Adam, exhausted, just opened up the text conversation with Gansey (it was named three eggplant emojis). The last message was “why are six of my towels damp and full of leaves in the bathtub?” 

And since Adam didn’t want to answer this he typed in the quick message “Everything’s fine -A”. 

He locked the phone and saw his own pale, tired face reflected in the black screen. He flipped the phone over quickly, afraid of being pulled back into a scry by Cabeswater. It was quiet now, satisfied so long as Adam was speeding towards it, but now that he knew what being free of its influence felt like, Adam wasn’t eager to lose himself to Cabeswater again. 

Earlier that night he’d thought that he’d shaken off Cabeswater’s thrall when he woke up in a grassy ditch. At that time, he’d barely been able to focus enough to divine the numbers of Gansey’s cell number and stumble towards the nearest farmhouse while repeating the digits under his breath because he was afraid that he would lose consciousness again. 

Tired, but determined to stay awake, Adam asked, “where are we going to stay?” 

“We’re going home,” Ronan replied. 

Adam’s stomach felt hollow at the confirmation that he’d still tethered himself back to Henrietta. He looked at Ronan’s frowning, handsome profile and wondered how he had made the choice to stay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really excited to post the next chapter! This chp and the next few were some of my favourites to write!


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Gangsey finally goes to Cabeswater and Adam meets Aurora

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ehhhh I wrote draft 1 of this chapter on mother’s day and cried so like. I’m a big baby. 
> 
> Also my Latin is not good. I know just enough etymology to know that much. Sorry for anyone who does actually know some latin. This note is for future me when I inevitably fold and ask my partner to proofread my latin. I’m sorry, dude.

**2012**

The Hondayota was idling loudly in the Church’s gravel parking lot when Ronan left the morning service. He had two reactions in quick succession; an involuntary, embarrassing excitement to see Adam, then the frustrating moment of remembering that only the wrong Adam was in town. Ronan turned towards his BMW to avoid both Declan’s judgemental invitation to lunch and the Hondayota. 

The congregation, spilling out of the church while chatting genially, were interrupted rudely by a loud car horn. 

Ronan whipped around to glare at the Hondayota. Through the grimy windshield he could see Older Adam’s shitty grin as he leaned on the horn again. Blue leaned out of the passenger window and called over to him. She didn’t seem to care that she was in a church parking lot.

The Aunties were scandalized - Declan included. 

Ronan scowled darkly and stalked over to the driver’s window. It took Adam a moment to crank the window down by hand, but once it was cracked Ronan hissed poisonously, “what the  _ fuck _ do you want?” He tried to angle his body so that Matthew couldn’t see who he was talking to. 

“Get in,” Adam told him. 

Ronan flipped him off. 

Gansey leaned forward from the back seat with jolly excitement, “we’re going to Cabeswater!” He was still fresh-faced from rowing practice. 

Ronan scowled again and pretended that he was going to deny them. But he’d already disappointed Matthew once that day after declining lunch with his brothers, so he escaped into the back seat, “fuck I hate it back here.” The back seat was full of Gansey’s duffel bag and the detritus of Adam’s life, “why aren’t we taking the Pig?”

“It’s going to break down,” Adam prophesied. He must have been joking because Blue laughed. 

“And this shit box isn’t?” Ronan said. He struggled out of his suffocating suit jacket and threw it onto the seat near Gansey.

Gansey shrugged amicably. He was always more alive when they were on the trail of a new mystery. He leaned forward to stick his head between the front seats as Adam drove them out of the parking lot and continued his conversation, “so you were saying, Parrish, that you think there might be some clue to your temporal displacement in Cabeswater?” 

Ronan mockingly mouthed “temporal displacement” to himself. He saw Adam’s eyes crease in amusement, caught on his in the rearview mirror. Ronan grumpily did not feel anything about this. 

“Pretty much,” Adam agreed with Gansey. 

Gansey, caught up in the excitement, continued to chatter on about his theories with Blue half-turned in her seat to insert her thoughts. The Hondayota mixtape that Ronan had secretly given Adam played quietly through the one working rear speaker. 

Ronan folded his arms tightly, slumped in his seat, and pretended to sleep. Everyone knew he was awake, but did him the favour of ignoring him. 

They pulled up next to a copse of trees shortly after Gansey tried to offer directions and Adam, with surprisingly short temper, replied that he could find his way to the biggest bleeding source of magic in four states, thanks. 

They all piled out of the car - Gansey extra cheerful because he feared that he had offended Adam, Ronan prickly from listening to acoustic music, Adam rubbing absently at stiffness in his hand, and Blue offering Adam a scuffed up aluminum cane. They all stood at the boundary of the trees for a moment before Adam looked to Ronan.

Ronan stomped off between the trees and the others followed. 

“What are we looking for?” Gansey asked quietly. 

Cabeswater was cooperating as a beautiful early fall day. The leaves fell around them tawny and caramel coloured. The earth smelled damp and fertile with rotting underbrush. 

“Something woo-woo,” Blue teased him. 

“Ah,” Gansey said sagely, “how academic.” 

They walked together - Ronan, Gansey, Adam, Blue - for a few more minutes in the still trees before Blue asked, “do you… hear that?”

“Blue,  _ don’t _ ,” Adam hissed. 

Ronan turned back towards his friends where they stood between the trees. Blue was looking curiously out into the golden gloom. Gansey said something quietly to her, but Adam was staring at Ronan, eyes hard. 

“It sounds like,” Blue said urgently, “wings?”

“Blue,” Adam warned, his eyes trained on Ronan’s. 

Ronan could hear it now - the rustle and buzz of insects. Hundreds of them. They’d done this before. He’d gotten better - why did this keep happening? 

Adam said sharply, “cut it out.” 

Ronan could see Gansey looking out into the trees in fear. He could recognize the beginnings of a panic attack. How his friend crumpled under the overwhelming belief that he was going to  _ die _ . Ronan felt something inside himself crumple in response.

“ _ Ronan _ ,” Adam’s voice could cut. He grabbed Ronan’s arm to get his attention, “stop this.”

Ronan jerked in his hold and snarled helplessly, “I’m not  _ doing anything. _ ”

The cloud of wasps buzzed and hummed through the trees until it was nearly upon them. Ronan hadn’t been thinking about wasps, not even a little bit, and he’d really been  _ trying _ to learn how to control Cabeswater. But he was going to watch his best friend die in front of his own face. He was finally going to be what killed Gansey.

Adam stepped forward, dragging Ronan by the wrist a few stumbling steps, and made a decisive movement with his other hand. 

As one, the bees dropped and they hit the leafy foliage as dewdrops. The sound of their wings suddenly absent and replaced by the cacophony of water drizzling on leaves. Great gaping wounds opened in the craggy bark of the old trees and they began leaking crystaline water onto the forest floor. 

Adam’s hand shook where he gripped Ronan’s forearm. 

Ronan’s blood pounded past his ears and under Adam’s digging fingertips. Ronan looked from him to the mossy dirt. The rug from The Barn’s front hall was rolled out under his feet and led to the locked front door a few feet away where it stood freely between two young birches. 

“We have to go,” Adam said. He let go of Ronan and leaned down to pick up his cane where he’d dropped it. It lay next to three swords with aquamarine hilts. They were from his dream.

Ronan looked at the locked door. 

“Is there somewhere in Cabeswater that’s warded?” Adam asked, exhausted, “that’s safe?”

Gansey was wide-eyed, but valiantly convincing Blue that he was fine. He offered, “Aurora’s clearing?” 

Ronan swung his hollow gaze around to look at Gansey when he realized that they were waiting for his consent. He said hoarsely, “yeah. Okay.” He wasn’t dreaming. But somehow Adam had manifested his dream. And if the swords lay there on the ground, then was his father there too? On the other side of the door? 

“Come on,” Adam snapped him out of his thoughts. He had on the face that Parrish wore when he was angry, but didn’t want anyone to know. He said, “you have to lead, Ronan.” 

Ronan nodded dumbly and picked a direction. 

As they followed him, he could hear Gansey say, breathless and eternally curious, “how did you change Cabeswater? Where did you learn to control it?” 

Ronan could hear the sound of Adam’s reply, but the words were lost in the sounds of the forest. He couldn’t help but focus on their conversation and wait for them to point out that he should have been able to handle this. 

Adam’s voice was a bit louder now with barely restrained exhaustion as he interrupted the stream of questions, “Gans, I don’t have the answers. I’m not in control of Cabeswater. I don’t know why I’m here. I can’t fix this by waving some magic wand.” He cut off Gansey’s apology, “I can’t split Cabeswater open to find Glendower for you. Your Adam sacrificed himself to the most dangerous dreamthing on this ley line so ask  _ him _ when he gets back. I’m just trying to go home.” 

Adam sped up his halting gait to walk alongside Ronan and then all that frustration was bundled back up behind an impassive face. Adam mumbled darkly, “I don’t want to talk about it.” 

“What the hell would I talk to you for?” Ronan muttered and pushed aside a low-hanging branch. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Adam smile slightly at that. 

The bushes around them were growing laden and heavy with round, red berries. Ronan could feel the edges of the clearing that his mother lived in. The path through Cabeswater was never the same twice, but when Ronan stopped overthinking it he would always find his way back here.

Aurora sat peacefully in a beam of sunlight with a small paperback held in one hand. When he stepped into the clearing, she looked up and smiled. She glittered in the golden air like a painting. She marked her place in the book with a slim finger and held out one graceful arm to beckon Ronan into a hug. 

With minimal grumbling he leaned down into her hug and hooked his chin over her shoulder so that he could mumble, “hey, ma.” where the others wouldn’t see his face. 

She released him and said, “hello sweetheart. You look so handsome today,” she tugged on the wrinkled cuff of his dress shirt, “did you come from church?”

Ronan shrugged, head still ducked low to hear her, “yeah.” 

His mom just smiled, “thank you for bringing my books last visit.” 

“I didn’t bring anything else this time,” Ronan apologized quietly with his hands shoved firmly into the pockets of his slacks. He had started bringing small things from the Barns to try and keep her entertained. To be truthful, Ronan didn’t know the extent of Cabeswater’s magic on her - if she lived her life while he was away, or if she just sat placidly while waiting for a visit. This was a new, uncomfortable thought - wondering if his parents had lives outside of himself - so he pushed it away. 

“That’s all right,” his mom tapped the cover of the book in her hand, “I’m still reading this one.” She spotted the others over his shoulder, “oh, Gansey, dear,” and she stood to go say hello and wrap Gansey in a maternal hug as well. He still looked tense from the encounter in Cabeswater earlier and his not-fight with Adam, but he received her with his parent-charming smile. 

Ronan allowed her to wrap her arm around his shoulders and press him close to her side as she asked Gansey about classes and his family. Ronan picked at the lint in his pockets while Gansey answered. She always asked the same questions and never seemed to remember Blue’s name so Ronan had the sinking feeling that she wasn’t exactly forming new memories. 

But then she turned slightly and asked brightly, “and Adam, how is the clinic? The animal sanctuary?” 

Adam had been standing apart from the group and studying the trees, so he was slightly surprised at being addressed directly. Despite this, he still managed to politely answer, “we’re doing well, ma’am.” 

“My boys are helping out?” She asked. 

Gansey looked at Ronan with questions in his face. 

Ronan just shrugged. 

“They’re staying with us,” Adam agreed, then cautiously continued, “Matty’s more helpful. He was looking after a new litter of puppies someone found out by the reservoir.” 

“Careful,” Aurora smiled indulgently, “or he’ll become attached and you won’t be able to get rid of them.” 

“Too late, ma’am,” Adam admitted and ducked his head bashfully when Aurora laughed warmly at him. 

“It’s been too long,” Aurora quieted as some thought crossed her mind. Her gaze drifted, “I haven’t seen Matthew in too long. Tell him to visit, will you Ronan?” She had faded and withdrawn within herself. 

“I will,” Ronan nearly choked on the lie. 

“Thank you, darling,” she said absently. 

Gansey politely drew her back into conversation though she wasn’t quite present with them anymore. As he joked with Blue - who was telling an animated story about the chickens living in her front garden - Ronan stared out at Adam who had drifted away again to examine the small pool of water at the center of the clearing. His mother’s arm was barely holding him now - an afterthought of motherly affection. 

Ronan slipped away. He could hardly reconcile the brilliant, stubborn mother he knew with this fugue that would overtake her. Sometimes he thought that she might dim so much that she’d just slip into another dreamless sleep. 

Adam was looking up at the golden canopy now, face tipped up into the beams of light. The sunlight caught in the halo of his dirty blonde hair like little licks of fire. It shone through the delicate shell of his ear with a petal-pink glow. Ronan couldn’t help being drawn to someone so alive. 

The leaves on the mossy ground crunched under Ronan’s boots and Adam turned to watch him. Ronan didn’t smooth out the expression on his face, so Adam said, “do you understand the trees?” 

Ronan cocked his head and listened. Between the rustling of the leaves were the strange words that weren’t Latin that the trees whispered to him in dreams, “only when they aren’t talking shit.” 

Adam considered this. Then he asked, “are you tired?” 

“Why?” Ronan bristled, “want a nap, Parrish? Want to curl up in a little tree stump and hibernate?” 

“Always,” Adam replied with that wry pinch of pain in the corner of his mouth again, “I meant after I used you to Conjure back there.”

Ronan could remember how tightly Adam had gripped his arm earlier. How he felt lit up from the inside out from the contact. He absently rubbed at his wrist, “no.” 

“Ok good,” Adam nodded, looked back to the trees, then offered, “I can’t make dreams real. You don’t have to worry.” 

Ronan scowled. He wasn’t worried. 

Adam continued, “I can only make your dreams into something they’ve been before. And Cabeswater is entirely your dream. You should really be more careful what you make it into.” 

Ronan already knew that he’d fucked up, “tell Gansey this. He’d love to jack off to your voodoo bullshit.”

For some reason Adam smiled at him like that was endearing and not purposefully gross. 

The trees rustled again, stirring in the mild autumnal air. 

_ Greywaren _

_ Hostia nostrum  _

Ronan looked up to the golden boughs, then over to Adam. 

Adam had his head tipped in a familiar, thoughtful pose, one ear cocked to listen to the trees whisper. 

With his eyes, Ronan could trace the freckles on Adam’s neck and down his throat. Ronan swallowed drily. 

“Did you catch that?” Adam asked then and turned his blue, blue eyes on Ronan. 

_ Greywaren _

“Yeah,” Ronan croaked and cleared his throat. He cast his eyes back up to the trees. Cabeswater had tried to hurt them earlier, so he didn’t feel particularly friendly to it. 

_ Favent nobis. Defendat.  _

“Fuck that,” Ronan muttered. He wasn’t going to protect the forest when it seemed to have a death wish for them lately.

_ Greywaren _

The trees rustled urgently. 

Ronan planted his boots firmly, stuffed his hands in his pockets, and grit his teeth up at the trees, “ _te prope occiderunt eum._ _Meus rex.”_

Next to him Adam mumbled to himself, “our king.” 

_ Defendat defendat  _

_ Dare eum ad nos.  _

“‘Give him to us?’” Adam’s voice was confused, “who? Gansey?” 

Yellowed leaves dropped from the canopy onto Adam. Tiny spade-shaped golden leaves kissed his cheeks. 

_ Magus _

“I know who I am,” Adam said firmly, “who do you want?” 

_ Hostia nostrum _

“What are they saying?” Adam turned to Ronan, “I haven’t kept up on my ‘pretentious forest language lessons’.” 

Ronan’s voice was a dry rasp, “ _ Hostia _ \- enemy? Our enemy?” 

Adam looked down to where the golden leaves had dropped. At his feet were small blue flowers that quickly uncurled up out of their leaves and bloomed. 

_ Magus. Hostia nostrum.  _

Adam shook his head. His sandy hair curled slightly at the nape of his neck, “ _ hostia -  _ not enemy. Host. No, not host - sacrifice.”

_ Sacrificium tibi _

“Sacrifice yourself,” Adam whispered. 

_ Redire magus nobis _ ,  _ Greywaren. _

“Return the magician to us,” Adam solemnly looked over at Ronan, “Greywaren.”

Ronan’s throat was dry dry dry. Adam wasn’t his to give. “ _ Quid enim uti?” _ For what purpose?

_ Defendat _

_ Accipiunt vitam nostram. Accipiunt nostra magus. _

“They’re taking your energy? Who’s they?” Adam asked, “ _ qui _ ?” 

And on this Cabeswater was silent. The sounds of harmless crickets and Blue talking to Gansey returned, and only then did Ronan realize that every sound except for Cabeswater’s words had been dampened. 

“Cabeswater wants its power returned,” Adam said, thoughtfully. His long fingers curled around the handle of his cane as he looked down at the blue flowers that were now wilting, “it wants its sacrifice back.” 

“Fucking sucks,” Ronan bit out, “abducted to the past just to die in a backwater nowhere forest.” 

Adam blinked over at him, “oh, no, not me. I never sacrificed anything to Cabeswater.” A wry smile stole across his thin lips, “I’m bound to the Greywarren of the Ley Line.” 

Ronan’s face grew red and hot. The word echoed, swelling in his rib cage  _ bound bound bound _

“Me being here is just the result to keep the balance,” Adam continued as though Ronan wasn’t still processing his previous admission, “Cabeswater wants  _ its _ magician.” 

“Parrish,” Ronan finished.

Adam tipped his head in agreement, “guess he didn’t read the fine print.” 

And Ronan was a raging fire, aflame with the weight and promise of being bound,  _ pledged,  _ but also in fear. He confronted now, suddenly, what could be happening to Parrish there in that strange future where Cabeswater wanted his protection and power against an unknown enemy. 

Adam, Other Adam, doused that fire as he cooly asked, “Ronan, will you help me dream?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love picturing Ronan stomping around Cabeswater in his sunday best.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ronan and Adam arrive at The Barns. Adam meets some of the neighbours.

**2022**

Ronan and Adam arrived at the Barns in the early hours of the morning. It was too dark for Adam to see much of the grounds past the car windows. They drove past the main house to a distant corner of the property around a patch of young trees towards a small farmhouse. The front had three evenly placed dormers and a red-brick chimney was built up along the side of the house. The front porch was covered and had a stack of firewood piled to one side.

The front steps leading up were littered with gardening tools - a large green watering can and some rainbow galoshes flopped happily over. Ronan fiddled sleepily with the keyring then managed to unlock the front door. He was nearly stampeded by three dogs who barked happily and tried to jump up to slobber on his face. 

Ronan shouted “down!” and “sit!” but they didn’t hear him over their own barking. He picked up the small jack russell terrier and shoo-d the other two in. Adam followed at a distance, careful of the energetic dogs. 

“C’mon you mutts,” Ronan scolded them fondly as he stomped into the house. 

Adam loitered awkwardly in the front hall next to the small messy table covered in mail. He was still in his pajamas from the night before, so he had wrapped the blanket from the car around his shoulders to keep the damp, misty morning air off his skin. He could hear kibble as it clattered into metal bowls and then the click-click-click of the dogs’ paws as they skittered towards the food. 

Ronan reappeared around the corner and motioned for Adam to follow him. He pointed to the stairs, “I’m gonna go sleep. You,” he fixed his sharp gaze on Adam. His scruff had grown in dark along the edge of his jaw. The thin scar on his left cheek was a pale line cutting through it, “don’t go to Cabeswater alone.” 

Adam frowned and felt the tug of Cabeswater in his gut. 

Ronan emphasized his point with a wide yawn, “seriously, if you Lorax it out of here, I’m not gonna come bar-ba-loot your ass again.” 

“That doesn’t even make any sense,” Adam muttered, but Ronan was already gone stomping up the stairs, and Adam was left standing awkwardly in the open living room again. He could hear the dogs eating eagerly in the kitchen. 

He felt grimy, so he searched until he found a bathroom on the main floor and let himself enjoy a long, hot shower. There was only one bottle in the shower and it had no label, but when he opened the lid it smelled earthy and appealing, so he used it to scrub at his coarse hair and under his arms. He hadn’t ever used anything other than the bar soap from the dollar store before which worked perfectly fine, but made his hair dry and stick up in the back. The lotion from the bottle lathered easily and filled the shower with a rich, warm smell. 

When he exited the bathroom in a cloud of steam and a plush towel, the dogs were much more curious about him. 

One came up to about his knee with wide-soulful eyes and wiry grey hair that made large, feathery eyebrows. These eyebrows twitched at him appraisingly, then the dog trotted off further into the house. 

Adam searched a couple of the rooms for clothes with the towel still wrapped around his waist. The house was clearly a renovated farmhouse with walls at odd angles. There were a few doors that seemed to lead to impossibly large rooms, and everything was repurposed shiplap and sturdy brass accents. All the furniture seemed to be suited perfectly to each room. Adam half wondered if Ronan had dreamed the house and everything in it, or if having that much money could just acquire you all the perfect items to furnish a house. Each room seemed to be cluttered with familiar, colourful objects that Adam was sure were mostly dreamthings.

Adam, dripping slightly, hadn’t found any spare clothes and he considered, briefly, putting on the pajamas again when he came across a laundry room. There were piles of clothes sorted into wicker hampers. From the dryer he pulled out a pair of overalls and an old band t-shirt. A little more digging found him some underwear and socks. 

Next, he returned to the kitchen. The wiry dog followed him and the third, largest dog loped along behind. It was a greyhound with a pale tan coat and long snout that snuffled at his pockets. 

“No treats, sorry,” Adam mumbled and offered an open hand.

The greyhound snuffled his hand, sneezed, and loped off back towards the large dog bed in the living room to curl up with the jack russell. 

Adam turned back to the pantry, his stomach hollow, and found a jar of peanut butter. The wiry dog who was following at his heels started wagging its tail furiously. Adam, who had luxuriously scooped out a spoonful of peanut butter, looked down at this tiny, happy creature. He stuck the spoon in his mouth and ate most of the peanut butter, then offered the rest on the spoon to the dog’s excited tongue. Adam would never have dreamed of wasting peanut butter this way - it would stretch much further spread thinly on bread - but there was no bread in the house. The fridge was also empty save for some limp vegetables, and Adam assumed that they had cleared it out before going to stay with Gansey. Adam took another spoonful of peanut butter because he was still a bit frustrated with this Ronan and didn’t mind wasting his food a little. 

After all this it was still early morning - the clock on the oven glowed 6:30. It had been a few hours since they had arrived at the Barns and Ronan had left to go sleep. Adam figured that he should feel tired too, but he was still buzzing with an anxious energy. His body was used to being awake at this time to either get more studying done before school or go to a work shift on the weekend. 

Ronan still hadn’t come out of the bedroom and Adam couldn’t hear anything moving in the house except for the dogs, so he assumed that Ronan was still asleep. 

Adam didn’t like being left at loose ends. He had been told not to go to Cabeswater alone, and didn’t particularly feel like borrowing the car to get there, but he figured walking around the grounds at The Barns wasn’t off limits. He found a pair of grass-stained sneakers in the front hall that fit well enough. When he opened the door, the wiry, grey dog trotted up behind him with a leash in his mouth and dragged it over the tile. 

This is how Adam found himself following the gravel and dirt path away from the farmhouse with the wiry dog following happily at his side in the early morning sun. It was a bit cold, but Adam figured that the air would warm up as the sun stayed high in the sky with barely a cloud in sight. The brisk walk kept him awake as he passed by the verdant land. 

The grounds of The Barns stretched on for acres into the distance, dotted with red barns and blanketed in a mist that was beginning to thin in the rising sun. Adam’s arms prickled with goosebumps in the damp, cool air. Everything looked exactly like the last time he had visited The Barns with Ronan.

He paused at an enclosure with a small barn in one corner. A herd of small goats, black and grey, all crowded at the fence and let out little bleats at him and the grey dog. The grey dog sniffed at the fence for a moment, then turned to continue on down the path, so Adam followed him. They were heading towards the front of the property. They left the path to cut between two barns and head straight for the front gate. Adam wondered if they were full of sleeping cows too. 

The grey dog had his tail up and tongue out happily as he led Adam through the long grass and then out the front gate and off the Barns property. Adam let the dog pick what direction they took on the dirt road and then kept up the brisk pace. He still felt a bit unsettled, but a bit better that he was doing something. 

They walked long enough for Adam’s feet to begin to ache. He wished that he had his watch to check how long they had been out.

“Mornin’!” 

A friendly voice cut through the morning air and startled Adam. He stopped and turned to the farmhouse that they were passing by. An older couple were sitting on wicker furniture chatting and eating breakfast in the sun that beamed down on their porch. A shaggy black dog lay at their feet, unconcerned with Adam and the little grey dog. 

Adam nodded politely, “good morning.” 

“Is that little Imp you got there?” The woman smiled down at the little grey dog who was happily pulling Adam towards the wooden steps that lead up to the porch. 

This question meant nothing to Adam but he had to follow the grey dog reluctantly up the steps or else seem rude and suspicious. 

She leant over to offer the grey dog a small piece of bacon from her breakfast, “there’s a good boy, good little Impy.” 

“You know the Lynches, son?” The man sounded friendly in that salt-of-the-earth tone, but Adam could hear mild suspicion. 

“Yes sir,” Adam said reluctantly and he couldn’t quite begin to explain to Ronan’s neighbours why he had his dog. 

Luckily the wife sat back up and scolded her husband, “ _ Dan _ , this must be a relative of Adam’s. Look, he’s the spittin image!” She turned a tanned smiling face back on Adam, “why, you must be his brother.” 

Adam tipped his head in a little nod and gratefully took advantage of her assumption. 

She continued, “they back from their trip? Did you join them? How was everything? It must have been nice to get out of town for a while.” Before Adam was required to answer she kept chatting, “those Lynches are good boys. They work too hard.” 

Adam had never once in his life heard a soul in Henrietta describe the Lynches as “good boys”. He could barely hold in a laugh. 

“You’re going to chat him to death, Ida,” Dan cut in, “he don’t got all mornin.” 

Ida ignored him, “would you like some tea?” 

“No thank you ma’am,” Adam politely tugged on the grey dog’s leash. He was sniffling curiously at the big black dog’s feathery tail, “we had better keep goin’.” 

Dan nodded in approval of the sensibility of this, “you tell those boys hello for us. And I’d appreciate Adam droppin ‘round when he has the time. Our dappled grey is favouring her left forehoof again.” 

“Yessir,” Adam agreed as he let the grey dog tug him down the front steps and back towards the road. 

Adam tried to not feel like he was seeing spoilers into his own future. He didn’t know if he should be disappointed that he was still in Henrietta, or pleased that his opinion was respected with whatever he did here that made him an expert on horses. He took comfort in knowing that this wasn’t his timeline and set aside these thoughts for later inspection. 

The sun had risen fully now and beat down on the back of his neck hot and familiar. 

A few more people carrying out chores that morning offered Adam friendly waves as he passed by. This attitude relaxed him enough that he wasn’t wary when someone walking the opposite direction up the road waved and called out a hello. 

He wasn’t dressed like the farmhands that Adam had passed by so far. Instead, he was wearing a crisp linen suit in a soft camel colour and had pale, pale skin that clearly hadn’t been out in the Henrietta sun long. He had a neat grey beard and a hat tucked under his arm. He looked like he owned a farm and employed many people to keep it running for him. He looked like a smudge of arid sand in contrast to the fertile soil around him. 

“Lovely morning, isn’t it?” the man offered genially. 

Adam nodded back, “morning,” and paused because the man had stopped.

The little grey dog - Imp - stood stiffly between Adam and the man. When the man leaned down to pat his head, Imp skipped backwards towards Adam and perked his ears. 

“Cute dog,” the man’s teeth were very white and very straight. 

“Thanks,” Adam said. 

“I’m new to the neighbourhood,” the man said and stuck out his hand as though this were the expensive suburbs that hugged the north side of Henrietta, not dusty farm country. He had a gold ring on his pinky with a large blood red stone, “good to meet a local. The name’s Albert Taylor.” 

Adam never appreciated being called a local. Like he was a variety of Virginia produce. He was suddenly very aware of his scuffed overalls and his Henrietta-dirt coloured hair. In spite of this he said politely, “Adam Parrish,” and took the offered handshake. 

“Good to meet you, Adam,” Albert’s handshake was firm and a bit too long. 

Adam didn’t like the way Albert said his name like he was memorizing it. Like telling him was a mistake. The pressure from Cabeswater was back like a shadow cast across his thoughts. Adam felt a bit dizzy, but tried to subtly pinch the inside of his forearm to stay present. 

Albert still smiled as he lifted the flat, historical hat from under his arm and settled it on his head. The red stone on his finger glinted in the sunlight. “Beautiful country out here. Pure. You can almost feel the earth turning, wouldn’t you say? I’m hosting some friends and they’re interested in hiking. I’m looking for places around here to take them - somewhere that’s unlike anything else. You know any place like that?” 

Imp let out a sharp, warning bark at him. The dog was trembling now, snout pointed at the strange man.

Adam used his second hand to hold the leash in case Imp lunged, “no sir. It’s time for me to be gettin back.” He could feel Cabeswater swelling like a pressure in his chest - like he couldn’t take a full breath - so he turned on his heel even though it was rude and strode back down the road. 

Imp followed after him, thankfully, though he wouldn’t take his alert little eyes off of the pale man and kept getting tangled up on his leash. Adam kept his pace even, but brisk.

Roads in Henrietta were straight and flat, and Adam didn’t like the feeling that even as he walked quickly, the pale man would be able to see him for yards. Adam could feel the eyes on his neck. Cabeswater tried to overwhelm him again, but when he blinked the image of dark, damp leaves away, he realized that Imp had led him down a secondary road that looped around one of the farms and they were almost to The Barns. 

Adam didn’t like realizing that the pale man was so close to The Barns. But every step he took closer to The Barns, the more in control of himself he felt. Thinking about the little farmhouse where Ronan slept soothed Cabeswater and it retreated until Adam was almost able to breath again. Adam messily stomped up the front steps to the little farmhouse and hurried through the front door. Closing the door firmly behind him helped. Slipping quietly up the stairs towards the bedrooms helped. Cabeswater urged him towards Ronan. 

A door at the top of the stairs was ajar and Adam quietly pushed it open. The room was a riot of homey colours and objects - a place well lived in. 

Ronan was chaotically sprawled on the master bed, asleep, and barely under the blankets. Two cats were curled up next to him - one a tight cinnamon coloured curl on the pillow next to his dark curls and the other a lazy black and white tuxedo cat sprawled on its back in mimicry of Ronan’s own pose. 

Adam didn’t like that Cabeswater was only soothed now that he was in the same room as Ronan. 

_ Greywaren _

Adam stepped into the room and knelt down near the head of the bed. He stroked one hand carefully over the long ginger fur of the sleeping cat. It tucked its little nose under one paw and started up a deep rumbling purr. Adam carefully ran his fingers through the soft fur behind the cat’s ears as he considered the encounter. Had that man really been threatening? Adam wasn’t sure - Cabeswater had been playing havoc with Adam’s own instincts ever since he’d arrived in this future. But he couldn’t deny that the pale man had been overly interested. The neighbours hadn’t unsettled Adam even slightly, despite being much more inquisitive and suspicious of him. 

Only the pale man had asked such curious questions about Henrietta.

Adam glanced up from the cat who was happily curling up under his strokes. 

Ronan’s blue eyes regarded him sleepily from a short distance away. He was still laying down as he had been when asleep. He looked soft, soft, soft. He carefully scratched along the ginger cat’s arching spine and asked, voice a tired rumble, “who did you meet, Adam?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A dog heavy chapter!  
> If you want any visuals for this chapter, just google “Virginia Farmhouse” and “French Cottage interior” and you’re golden.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ronan and Adam dream together

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit of a longer chapter this time!  
> I'm rewriting the ending right now and I'm actually running out of chapters ready to post, so there will probably be a bit of a delay until the next chapter.

**????**

The leather interior of the BMW’s driver seat was smooth and familiar under Ronan’s palms. He cracked his eyes open and flexed his fingers to wake up into the dream properly. 

After the conversation with Cabeswater, Adam had insisted that he and Ronan needed to dream together. Ronan hadn’t been able to get a proper explanation out of him - he wondered what Adam would ask him to make. Ronan rolled his head against the headrest to look at the other man. Adam in a dream was the same as Adam awake - sharp and glowing. 

Adam was next to him in the passenger seat, alert and leaning forward. He stared out past the windshield. 

Ronan also looked out onto the road that snaked between verdant trees and up towards a hazy distant mountain. The mountain was made of writhing beasts and shaking trees frozen in stone as though some ancient, fantastical battle was carved larger than life above them. Ronan could feel their hearts beating in the idling thrum of the BMW’s engine.

A mile away, a man stood at the side of the road and looked up at the mountain. Because this was a dream, Ronan could see the details of him despite the distance - his blue eyes and dark curly hair. Ronan could see the familiar disappointed slant to his mouth as his father turned to look at the BMW. 

Niall raised a hand and a mile away, under Ronan’s feet, the BMW started to smoke. Steam and flames licked out from under the hood as though this was an action movie and the car was going to explode. 

Adam gripped Ronan’s shoulder and shouted, “get out!” Before he shoved his way out of the car and onto the side of the road. 

Ronan followed, tumbling out his own door. Then, turning quickly, he remembered that this was _his dream_ and he was in _control_. The BMW melted into a wide, black puddle. The reflection of the BMW shimmered in the depths. 

Adam ran up the road towards Niall and shouted, “Ronan!” 

So Ronan followed, because he didn’t want Adam to get lost in his dream. If he didn’t know where Adam was, how could he protect him?

Ahead, Niall looked angry then confused, and said, “Adam?” He looked so young.

The road snapped shorter, like an elastic that was released and tensed up, and then they were only a few feet from each other. Adam kept running straight into him.

“ _Christ_ ,” young Niall cursed shakily and gathered Adam into a broad hug, “what the _fuck_.” 

Ronan stumbled to a stop a few feet behind Adam. Ronan tried to make his father disappear. If he could make him disappear, then Adam would be able to focus on whatever he’d needed to go into the dream for. 

Familiar blue eyes fixed on his and Ronan felt a nauseating jerk in his chest, like a fishhook in his sternum that was trying to tug him to the pavement. It was all he could do to stay standing under the sudden pressure.

Adam jerked back out of the hug he’d been pulled into and said, “wait, Ronan -”

Ronan had the sudden feeling that this dream wasn’t his to control anymore. The tugging on his ribs stole all the breath out of his lungs. 

“He’s a Dreamer, Adam,” the young Niall said, dark and menacing. 

Adam snorted, “I know. I brought him here.” 

And Ronan wasn’t staring at his father - he was staring at an older version of _himself_. The tension in his chest released and he staggered back, gulping in a breath.

“I don’t know how long I can keep these dreams connected,” Adam was saying urgently, “I need to know -”

“You’re real?” the Older Ronan asked and - with a reverent awe that made Ronan feel vulnerable - touched a rough hand to Adam’s cheek, “Where the fuck are you? I could pull you out, get you _back-_ ”

“ _Don’t_ ,” Adam said quickly, “you’d just make a copy. Is a younger Adam with you?” 

Older Ronan nodded, his eyes drinking in Adam’s face like a man in drought. Ronan didn’t like how familiar the feeling looked on his face.

“Good,” Adam continued, focused, he gently held the hand the Older Ronan was running along his jaw, “you need to help him. There’s someone who’s dangerous to Cabeswater - _that’s_ what switched us. Cabeswater has been draining the power out of your dreamthings to protect itself, but it needs more. Cabeswater needs the Magician as a sacrifice. Don’t let them get him. Don’t let Cabeswater take him. Once Cabeswater is safe, we can do another ritual and try to harness it to switch us back -” 

“I can’t hear you,” Older Ronan cut him off, “babe, what’re you -?”

“Fuck,” Adam said emphatically and held intense eye contact with him, “you need to keep him - me - safe. They’re coming. He’s already met one. They’re looking for him. Don’t let Cabeswater take him. He has to make a choice.” 

Older Ronan still looked bewildered, “I can only hear a little - Who’s coming? What does Cabeswater _want_?” 

Adam, full of frantic energy, tipped his face up and slipped a hand into Older Ronan’s curls to pull him down into a firm kiss. He looked _desperate_. 

Ronan looked away from them, but because it was a dream he knew the press between them as his own body sang in response. He could hear perfectly clearly the way the Older Ronan whispered, “wait” when Adam pulled back. 

They rested their foreheads together and breathed. Older Ronan rested an open hand against Adam’s heart, “ _tamquam_.” 

“ _Alter idem_ ,” Adam replied quietly. Then, as if in pain, Adam admitted, “I can’t keep it together. I’m waking up.” 

Ronan already felt like the dream was melting around them. Not the pavement they stood on, but the earth underneath it, and the air around them. One moment he was studiously ignoring the two of them because he felt flayed wide open, and the next he was alone in this dream.

The road floated in space in large chunks of gravelly, painted tarmac. The mountain was gone. The man was gone. Adam was gone. Ronan wasn’t quite sure which way was up.

Out of the darkening sky, he could hear Chainsaw’s caw. With an overwhelming rush of feathers, she settled on his shoulder and bit at his ear. 

“Yeah, yeah,” Ronan held his shoulders steady for her, “could have used the fucking support earlier.” 

* * *

**2012**

Ronan woke in increments, then all at once. He was in the driver’s seat of the BMW again, but this time he knew that he was awake. It was already the dusky evening and Ronan was almost surprised that no one had called the cops on the two bums sleeping in the parking lot of St Agnes. 

The Older Adam was sitting in the passenger seat, but he’d opened the door so that he could stick his long legs out into the fresh air. The quiet, peaceful sounds of Henrietta at dusk filtered in on a breeze.

Ronan wasn’t paralyzed - he hadn’t taken anything from that strange hybrid dream - but he lay still and listened to Adam’s quiet breaths. They were purposefully measured and steady like Adam was counting them. Ronan wanted to keep laying there in the quiet stillness and listen to Adam. 

Eventually, Adam turned and gently shut the door, “awake?” 

“Un-fucking-fortunately,” Ronan groused, then started the engine, “I’m starving.” He peeled out of the parking lot towards the nearest McDonalds. 

“Sorry,” Adam said, exhausted. He was leaning heavily into the cradle of the seat, “that must have sucked for you.” 

Ronan shrugged and turned on his music, “if you wanted a freaky rendezvous, you should have just said.” 

Adam choked out a laugh, “I didn’t want you to say no. I needed it to be your dream to link them together.” 

Ronan could feel that grand hollowness in his chest again - the vacancy left by Adam when he wasn’t around. He carefully didn’t admit that, lately, he didn’t really feel capable of telling Adam no. He carefully tried to not sound curious, “there’s nothing we can do to undo this wibbly wobbly time fuckery?” 

In his periphery Adam rubbed his face and groaned, “let’s just go back to Monmouth. I’m gonna have to tell Gansey too and I only want to do it once.” 

Ronan grunted, pulled ahead in the drive-through queue, then hooked his arm out the open window to shout at the squealing speaker. 

He ordered his meal, then something for Gansey, then Adam’s favourite burger. He waited for Adam to protest the rising total, but he stayed silent. His pale, pinched face was reflected in the dark window when Ronan glanced over. Ronan paid, then collected the paper bags and shoved them towards Adam, “here, check this. Make sure Gansey’s doesn’t have onions, because otherwise he’s gonna bitch.” 

They weren’t far from Monmouth, so only a few minutes later Ronan was stomping up the stairs towards the renovated loft and slamming the door open. 

“ _Dick_ ,” he called out, “got you something!” 

Gansey sat in the center of his model of Henrietta with bed head and his glasses on, “what?” 

Ronan tossed the happy-meal box at him with a cackle. 

Chainsaw dove from one of the rafters and joined Gansey to beg for food. 

Ronan stuffed some fries into his mouth, then tugged out a burger and shoved it toward Adam, “that’s yours.” 

Adam took it with some surprise. 

“Oh!” Gansey had opened the box, “they’re doing toys for the Sword In The Stone remake - I got a tiny Excalibur!” 

“Don’t get too wet over it,” Ronan said and flopped down on the couch with the rest of his food. He passed another burger to Gansey.

“You treat me so well,” Gansey mockingly fluttered his lashes up at Ronan. 

Adam collapsed into the worn out recliner and unwrapped his burger. 

“Maggot go home already?” Ronan asked around a mouthful of food. 

Gansey shot a quick look at Adam then away, “er, yes.”

Ronan didn’t know if Gansey thought he was being subtle or what, but he just said, “good. I don’t wanna share my fries.” 

“You’ve never offered to share your fries,” Gansey said, pulling out a small box of chicken nuggets. 

“And yet,” Ronan said solemnly, “she eats my fries. I don’t share fries.” 

“Would you share your fries with me?” Noah asked Ronan. He leaned over the couch’s back to look down at him. 

Gansey asked academically, “come to think of it - can you eat, Noah? You never order anything at Nino’s - “

“ _Gansey_ ,” Noah gasped, a hand pressed dramatically to his chest. 

“You can’t just ask a dead man if he eats, Gans,” Adam informed him, the burger wrapper scrunched up in one hand. 

Gansey looked hesitant in the face of Adam’s teasing as though he didn’t know what he was allowed to say. 

“Hey,” Ronan interrupted, “so, tell Gansey about your freaky dream shit.” Then immediately regretted it because language wasn’t really made to distinguish clearly between the Older Ronan in the dream who had kissed Adam so tenderly, and the Ronan here on the couch who _burned_ with wanting. What if Gansey misunderstood?

Luckily for Ronan’s nerves, Adam just methodically walked them through the information he’d been gathering. How Cabeswater had spoken to them earlier that day, and that he’d learned that their Adam had sacrificed some of himself to the forest. His theory that their Adam had been pulled into a timeline where Cabeswater was under threat to protect it. He led them through the facts so pragmatically, that Gansey merely nodded thoughtfully when Adam said, “so I joined the Ronans’ dreams together to warn someone from the future” as if that wasn’t a completely buckwild statement. 

After Adam finished explaining, Gansey asked, “so there’s nothing we can do to help him? Or to switch you back?” 

Adam shrugged and folded his hands together now that he’d finished his food, “unless we get some new information, there’s not much we can do. I’m only here because Cabeswater pulled your Adam into my present and Time,” here he did a little gesture, “needed to rebalance. Having both of us in one place put too much strain on it. Hell, having both Ronans in the same dream was too much to maintain for long.” 

“One Ronan at a time is too much,” Noah agreed, then let out a squeal when Ronan grabbed his collar and pulled him halfway over the couch to wrestle. 

Gansey started laughing at the pile they’d made. They had precious little time with Noah these days and Gansey never stayed gloomy when Noah was around to needle Ronan.

* * *

Later that night, after they’d ordered-in pizza because they were never not hungry, Ronan retreated back to his room. Noah had disappeared quietly and, with him, the bright, playful mood. 

Ronan was bouncing a tennis ball that he’d found against the wall. It was a dreamthing, so in addition to making a satisfying thud-thunk every time it bounced against first the floor then the wall, it also let out a small cuss. Ronan tossed it forward again.

Thud-thunk- _shit_

Ronan tried not to think about the events of the day. He had finished his stash of beer and was pleasantly buzzed, though he missed Noah. So he wasn’t thinking about anything. 

Thud-thunk- _damn_

He wasn’t thinking about Adam, healthy and glowing in Cabeswater. He wasn’t thinking about how Adam had looked at him with intent while translating Latin so effortlessly. He wasn’t thinking about how he looked kissing Ronan in his dream. 

Thud-thunk- _fuck_

The path of the ball was interrupted by one of the many objects that Ronan left scattered around, so in its attempt to return to his hand, it flew off on a wild angle and was lost. Ronan lay slumped against the wall for another moment and listened to Adam and Gansey talking together out in the main room. 

His door was cracked open slightly from when Chainsaw had wiggled her way in earlier. In the sliver, Ronan could see Adam and Gansey’s heads bowed together over some part of the Henrietta model. 

Adam said, “no, listen, Gans. I’m sorry for today. I shouldn’t have lost my temper with you.” 

Gansey started to brush off his apology, but Adam interrupted him emphatically, “seriously, you don’t deserve it. I’m grateful for your support.” 

Ronan wondered if Gansey was going to cry right there. How embarrassing.

Gansey lifted one hand in a fist and Adam fondly bumped his fist against it, then he pulled Gansey into a rough hug. When Adam let him go, Gansey picked up another piece of cardboard and considered it as though he was going to add it to the structure. 

Gansey fiddled with his glasses and cleared his throat quietly a few times before he joked, tentatively, “that’s very mature of you, Parrish. What growth.” 

“Hah,” Adam joked, “it’s because I’m a licensed couples therapist. I have finely honed conflict-resolution skills.”

Ronan imagined that Gansey would find that dumb joke funny. 

He must have, because Adam continued in a faux suffering tone, “they make you do 700 hours of in-person practicum sessions before you can graduate, Gans.”

Gansey was openly laughing now, muffled behind one hand.

Adam continued drily, “I’ve seen the worst of it. Let alone what years of marriage has taught me.” 

Gansey quieted and looked down at Adam’s hand. At the ring on his hand. Then said hesitant, but diplomatic, “so there’s a Mrs. Parrish, then, or...?” 

Adam let him stew in it for a moment then said, saccharine and fake, “you’ve made me a very happy man, Dick.” 

Gansey froze at this, then asked as though confronting the possibility that he was going to have to formally introduce Adam to his parents, “seriously?” 

“No, not seriously,” Adam snorted and bumped his fist against Gansey’s shoulder.

“So who -” and then Gansey paused. 

Adam sounded amused, his accent a thick drawl, “y’all sure are curious about a future that isn’t yours,” he stood up, favouring his right leg, and said, “I’m gonna turn in. Good luck with the - uh - Southside dotty mart?” 

“Southstreet Daisy Mart,” Gansey corrected politely, and like a well-mannered friend, he let the topic drop, “sleep well.” 

And then Adam left the sliver that Ronan could see. Ronan’s heart was starting to rev up, his cheeks warm with booze and what he’d overheard. Why hadn’t Adam told Gansey? 

He stood and slipped out of his room with less grace than he’d like. He headed directly for the other bedroom where Adam was staying. Ronan convinced himself that if he didn’t look at Gansey, then his friend wouldn’t notice him. 

At the very least, Gansey didn’t say anything when Ronan slipped into the bedroom and closed the door behind himself. The bedroom had an impossibly high ceiling like the rest of the refurbished loft and oversized steel-framed windows. 

Adam looked like he was surrounded by the starry night sky in the dark room. Looking at him like this, ethereal and untouchable, was a heart attack, everytime. Everytime. He had another impenetrable expression when he turned to face Ronan. 

Ronan could feel Adam’s sharp eyes raking over his flushed face. 

Adam sat down on the bed to shuffle his socks off, “you come for an apology too?”

“For what?” Ronan asked thickly. 

This Older Adam had a very familiar expression when he thought that Ronan had said something stupid, “I was an asshole draggin you into that dream. Makin you see something you didn’t want to.” 

Ronan’s thoughts chugged sluggishly with this. He was still tangled up in a feeling of mistrust of this Older Adam. But he also couldn’t help looking and looking and looking as he had been all summer. This whole time the Older Adam had opened up to them all. And seeing him confidently manipulating Cabeswater, then softening in the dream, Ronan couldn’t help himself. He wanted to _know_. 

He must have been quiet for too long, because Adam attempted to awkwardly reassure Ronan, “you don’t have to be worried. None of it is technically your future.”

Ronan felt like pushing, so he stepped closer to Adam and asked roughly, quietly, “am I that different from him?” You’re just like him, Ronan thought, just as sharp and straight-forward. Full of just as many secrets and wonders. 

Adam looked up at him in the dim light and Ronan looked back at his messy hair, at his tired eyes, at his red mouth. Ronan tipped his head to the side slowly under Adam’s assessing look even as his heart thundered with nerves. He wanted to know what Adam saw. 

Quietly, into the stillness between them, Adam admitted, “no, not that different.” 

Ronan’s thoughts were gone - formless in the face of Adam’s unspoken admission. Adam’s shoulders sloped softly in the dark room. He didn’t shake off Ronan’s hand when it rested first on his shoulder, then up to the curve of his neck. Ronan leaned down further, his eyes were still locked on Adam’s and he mumbled nonsensically, “stop me if you’re gonna.”

Adam did not stop him. 

The first touch of their lips was soft. Ronan closed his eyes and tipped his head into it, overwhelmed with the idea that this might be the _only chance_. He could feel Adam’s eyelashes on his cheek. He moved slightly, leaning closer on wobbly legs and Adam placed a steadying hand on Ronan’s hip. He could feel it burn right through his clothes. He desperately wanted to be closer, so he pushed, shuffling closer into Adam’s space, between his knees. 

With a small laugh, Adam slid their mouths together so they fit. He had both hands up, now, running slightly up Ronan’s sides, then back down. He rested his hands on the waistband of Ronan’s torn jeans and hooked his thumbs under Ronan’s shirt to brush against the tender, sensitive skin of his stomach.

Ronan’s blood roared in his ears. He was lit from the inside out and barely able to contain the hot rush of affection. Adam’s throat was warm where Ronan ran his thumb down. He could feel Adam’s pulse in the palm of his hand. Their lips slid together, then Ronan felt the kiss part slightly, coming back together more open now. He could feel Adam’s stubble, and as he pushed, the soft tip of his tongue gently before it was gone again. Fueled onwards, Ronan chased that soft give and pressed Adam back. 

Adam caught himself on one hand against the creaky mattress. He breathed out something before Ronan swallowed it down in another kiss. 

Ronan knew it wasn’t anything special for this Adam - wasn’t probably _anything_ compared to years and years of experience. But this was Ronan’s first and possibly last chance and he could almost _cry_ because it was so good. Adam’s kiss was perfect, pressed so tenderly to Ronan’s mouth. 

Adam’s chest was hot against his and he was firm under Ronan’s insistent, unskilled kissing. Ronan could feel him sigh soundlessly, they were pressed so close.

Adam raised one hand to Ronan’s chin and tipped his head so that their mouths moved together more smoothly and Ronan accepted his direction. 

When Adam leaned back, Ronan tried to follow, but Adam held him firmly inches away with a hand on his cheek. He was looking directly up at Ronan and said gently, insistently, “hey, hold on. Save this for someone who can give somethin’ back.” 

“I don’t want anything, I don’t want anything,” Ronan’s voice was a rasp, “just this.” 

“Ronan,” Adam’s voice was fond, quiet. He was smiling slightly.

Ronan turned his head into the palm that Adam had placed on his cheek to keep him back and pressed a kiss there. He didn’t look away from Adam, so he saw the slight flicker of his expression. Ronan was a roaring river that had found a crack in the dam. He _wanted_. 

“Just this, Adam,” Ronan hadn’t known his voice could sound like this, steady and sure, “I’m not some kid.”

“No, but you’re drunk,” Adam replied and rubbed his hand over Ronan’s shaved head. Ronan was tipsy at _most_ , but he let up when Adam put a bit more firm power behind his next push to cajole Ronan to stand up, “and I don’t make out with drunk guys.” 

Ronan unfolded and hovered for a second before he sat heavily on the bed next to Adam. His blood was still buzzing and his lips still felt warm with the memory of Adam. At least Adam didn’t sound angry, just firm. After a moment sitting quietly together, Ronan asked steadily, “why didn’t you tell Gansey that you married -” He couldn’t finish the question. 

Adam tipped his head back, then asked reasonably, “did you want me to?” When Ronan didn’t reply he said, “you can tell him if you want. I didn’t know if you were out.” 

Ronan shrugged, because until this summer there hadn’t really been any urgency to be out about anything. He rubbed his hands on his jeans, palms suddenly sweaty. 

“Hey, don’t worry so much. Gansey doesn’t mind,” Adam added. 

“What, was he my best man?” Ronan shot back caustically, withdrawing into a protective, prickly ball. 

“Nah,” Adam bumped his shoulder against Ronan’s and then left it there as a long, warm line, “he was mine.” 

Ronan made a scandalized grimace into the dusk of the room, “traitor.” 

“Hey, you had Declan,” Adam laughed at the look of true horror that crossed Ronan’s face. 

Once Adam had gotten control of himself he said earnestly, “actually, Gansey insisted on being the officiant. He cried during the vows. Twice.” he was smiling crookedly at the memory, “Blue was my best mate.” 

Ronan grunted and picked at the leather bands on his wrist. 

“What? She threw a thoroughly _excellent_ stag party,” Adam protested. 

Ronan shrugged as though he didn't care, “you’re - Parrish’s dating her.” Or wanted to be dating her. Or wanted desperately to be tangled up in the fucking mess that was Gansey-Blue-Adam all pining for different versions of each other. Ronan wished he had another drink. 

Adam was quiet for a second. Ronan looked over at him and his face was screwed up in thought. Then Adam said apologetically, “I dunno, Ronan.” 

Ronan braced himself for rote sympathy. 

“She’s really short.” 

Ronan let out a disbelieving snort. 

Adam shrugged dramatically, “I can’t kiss people shorter than me. I get a bad kink in my neck. I can’t help it.” 

And even though it was obviously a joke to distract him, Ronan let his chest swell with hope.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did I narratively earn these kisses? Probably not. But I just wrote two plot heavy chapters ahead and realized that I had to come back and write the dream sequence in this chapter, so I’ve been good. I’m treating myself. 
> 
> (And then instead of being responsible and writing the finale, I drank a glass of wine, listened to some Tegan and Sara, and wrote a PWP alternate ending to this chapter of what would happen if Adam didn’t stop Ronan with just a kiss. Which you can read here.)


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ronan shows Adam a bit more of what his future holds.

**2022**

“No-one’s at Foxway,” Ronan said as he waded through an eager swarm of goats. He had unlatched the fence to go check on their feed boxes and the goats were now eagerly crowding him and nibbling on the edge of his leather jacket. 

“What?” Adam leaned against the wooden fence, “where are they?” 

“I guess  _ someone _ lives there,” Ronan said, “but you mean you wanna talk to Sargent’s family, right?” 

Adam had suggested that they go to Foxway to get an expert’s opinion on the ley line, and to help Ronan make sense of the strange dream he’d gotten from his Adam. 

“They moved out of Henrietta,” Ronan squinted thoughtfully, “six? Years ago?” 

Adam fed a piece of long grass to one of the eager goats. 

Ronan cut him a sharp grin, “you’re the expert of the ley line now.” 

Adam didn’t feel qualified. The goat bleated up at him with its strange little face.

“Ok,” Ronan said finally, down at the goats, “you little shits are fine. Let’s go.” 

Adam and Ronan headed back across the grassy fields of the Barns to reach the little farmhouse. That morning, Adam had watched Ronan briskly check on their animals - there were the goats, and chickens in one of the barns - while fielding questions. 

Apparently, the Other Adam - the one who was experienced enough to maintain this ley line by himself - had dreamwalked to deliver a message to Ronan. The explanation had been a bit sparse and Ronan had been cagey with details, which made Adam think that this dream had been like many others. Which is to say, unreliable as all hell. 

What Ronan  _ could  _ tell him was that Adam had been pulled into this timeline because Cabeswater needed him to protect it. That Cabeswater was being drained and needed Adam to strengthen it. Adam wasn’t sure what method was needed to strengthen Cabeswater - Ronan had been unhelpful on that front. Apparently this Other Adam had been the one who knew about rituals.

Ronan, for his part, had heard about the strange pale man that Adam had met on the road and reiterated that Adam shouldn’t go to Cabeswater alone. 

Sometime between gathering the eggs from the chickens and heading to the goats, Gansey had called, frantic for an update. Adam hadn’t been part of that conversation, but it sounded like Gansey was determined to drive down to Henrietta that afternoon. 

“Shit,” Ronan cussed, stomping up the front steps onto the farmhouse porch and pushing the front door open, “we don’t have any fucking food.” 

“You have eggs,” Adam pointed out reasonably. 

Ronan was carrying a wicker basket full of fresh eggs under his arm in a charming counterpoint to the rest of his sharp demeanour. He looked back at Adam as though he had missed the point entirely.

Then, Ronan said, “get Hatchet - we’re going to the store.” 

“Where? The murder store?” 

“No, not  _ the hatchet _ ,” Ronan called back from the kitchen where he was doing  _ something _ to store the eggs, then he stomped back out, “it’s like when I talk, you just hear white noise. What am I even talkin out loud for?” 

Adam just let his expression speak volumes. 

“Jesus, Adam,  _ the dog _ ,” Ronan picked up one of the leashes and shook it so that the metal clip on one end rattled.

At the sound, the three dogs stampeded out from the depths of the house - a greyhound, a wiry grey mutt, and a small jack russell bowled into Ronan’s legs. 

Ronan knelt down and tucked the jack russell under his arm so that he could clip the leash onto its collar. He handed the loop of the leash up towards Adam and said emphatically, “ _ Hatchet. _ ” 

Adam accepted the leash and the jack russell - Hatchet - jumped up to tap his front paws against Adam’s knee eagerly, “did you name this dog?” 

Ronan scoffed and threw a stuffed dog toy into the house so that the other two dogs chased it. Hatchet tugged on his leash in an attempt to follow too, but Ronan was hustling the three of them out of the house.

They piled into a beat-up blue pick-up (because I need to haul some stuff,  _ Adam _ ) with Hatchet quivering excitedly on Adam’s lap. He stuck his wet little nose up against the window glass.

“Don’t roll down the window too far,” Ronan cautioned, “he is dumb as a brick and  _ will _ jump out.” He patted the little dog’s back fondly as he gunned it down the gravel drive and then out onto the dusty roads. 

Adam asked, “did you dream him?” 

“Hatchet?” Ronan tapped his fingers on the steering wheel, “nah. He’s no dream - jack russell chihuahua mix, we think. S’why his ears are fluffy.” 

Adam did not understand why Ronan was talking to him like this - casually about the dogs instead of angry about Adam’s secrets. Adam firmly did not feel that he had earned this kindness, especially after needing Ronan to come find him the previous night. Adam was embarrassed and underslept, so he prickled under the casual friendliness. But the dog’s ears  _ were _ fluffy with silky fur tufts sticking up behind them, so Adam gave them a little pet. 

“We got the cats, Jigsaw and Reel,” Ronan continued when Adam stayed silent, “Matthew named them, before you start castin’ aspersions.” 

“I would never,” Adam said blandly.

“And Lizard,” Ronan ignored Adam, “is a rescue greyhound that Henry and Gansey tried to keep before Blue convinced them that keeping that girl in an apartment was stupid. And Imp is the clairvoyant mutt that you walked earlier.” 

“Clairvoyant?” Adam asked, because he knew Ronan wanted him to.

“He always knows who will feed him human food,” Ronan explained, then pulled up to a large one-story building that had clearly had multiple additions built extending back into the lot, “keep a hold on Hatchet.” 

He jumped out of the cab of the truck and then circled around the back to unlock the tailgate. Adam joined him, helping the tiny dog out of the car and letting it run excited circles around his feet. 

Ronan was tugging out large bundles of small flattened cardboard boxes, “grab a few, would you?” And then he left to stride towards one of the side doors of the building. 

Adam grabbed a bundle, held firmly onto Hatchet’s leash, and followed Ronan into the building. He entered a small corridor and found Ronan banging around in a room that was serving partly as storage, partly as a kitchen, partly as a break room. It had laminate floors and a banged up table in one corner. 

“Leave ‘em there,” Ronan said, pointing at another stack of collapsed cardboard boxes that were leaned against the wall. 

Adam, trying not to trip over Hatchet who was determined to be underfoot, dropped the cardboard there. 

Then, Ronan asked, “you wanna see the animals?” 

Adam knew this voice. It was the voice that said ‘I’m going to show you something that I hope will impress you’ and ‘please don’t notice that I’m trying to impress you.’ Adam had started forming a habit of indulging this voice, so he said, “ok.” 

Ronan gestured that Adam should follow and led him down a loud hallway. The hall was filled with bird calls and the sounds of other animals kicking up a fuss. It sounded like a forest had been condensed down to one small building. Ronan pulled open the top of a dutch door for Adam to peer through. 

Adam leaned over the waist-height door and saw a small room filled with small wicker hutches and the floor covered with shredded up cardboard. Then he spotted them, the tiny rodents scampering from hutch-to-hutch. 

“Are those rats?” Adam asked, leaning forward to get a better look. 

“It’s the herd of guinea pigs,” Ronan had picked up Hatchet so that he could look too. He wiggled in Ronan’s arms, but didn’t bark. Ronan continued, “there’s six of them in there. That one - the brown one - is Plato, and over there under the green box you can see Emerson.” 

“Six?” 

“Yeah, and one Cavy.” 

“A what?” 

Ronan made a sound with his mouth, not quite a whistle, that had Hatchet happily licking his cheek. Then a large, strange brown creature waddled out from behind one of the larger hutches while chewing a mouthful of feed. It was about the size of a medium-small dog with short brown fur and long, thin legs. Adam had never seen anything like it. 

“That’s Cranberry, the Patagonian Cavy,” Ronan pulled out some dry treats from his pocket and passed them to Adam before Hatchet could steal them, “here, hold that out. He’ll like ‘em.” 

Adam leaned over the door and held the dry treat out carefully. 

The cavy sat up on its haunches, one tiny paw against the door for balance, and then it snuffled warmly against Adam’s fingers. He could feel its whiskers as it eagerly took the treat and then pushed at his hand for more. 

Ronan tossed a treat into the room, locked the door to the guinea pigs’ room, then said, “c’mon, let’s go check on the flock.” 

The flock, it turned out, was a room full of a number of parrots in a rainbow of colours. The sound in that room was astounding between the powerful fluttering of wings and the birds all chattering to each other as they chased each other between perches.

One tiny green parrot with a vivid red beak landed on a perch near where they stood and peered at Ronan through the cage’s mesh. In a creaky voice it insisted, “pretty birdy? Pretty birdy?”

Ronan laughed, “suck up,” then pointed out a few of the larger parrots on the far side to Adam. 

The next few rooms held even more strange animals that Adam had not expected to start his morning with. First a large room that Ronan promised held an african crested porcupine named Kizmet, then a room lined with cages filled with iguanas and snakes and reptiles that Adam had never heard of, then a dim room where Ronan whispered to him about the opossums and hedgehogs. 

Finally, after leading Adam back past the flock’s room, Ronan said, “we should keep moving. Just wanted to stop and drop off the cardboard.” 

Adam followed him out of the loud hallway, back through the kitchenette, and out towards the truck. 

“What is this place?” 

“Hm?” Ronan helped Hatchet hop up into the front seat. 

“All these animals? It can’t be a farm?” Adam swung up into the passenger seat. Hatchet immediately crawled onto his lap and licked his face. Adam tried to fend him off half-heartedly, but Hatchet insisted. 

“Oh, nah,” Ronan threw the truck into gear and pulled away from the building, “it’s an animal sanctuary. Y’know, for exotic animals that would seriously fuck up the Virgina ecosystem.” 

“Where’d they all come from?” Adam hadn’t even seen most of these animals before. 

“Rich fucks who don’t think about what makes a good pet,” Ronan shrugged, “or as Sargent says it - stupid Raven Boys who think they can hide a macaw in the dorms and then release it where-the-fuck-ever when they go back to daddy’s house for the summer.”

Adam could imagine his classmates doing this, “you work there?” 

Ronan snorted, “no, you do.” 

Adam was quiet at this and ruffled the silky fur behind Hatchet’s little ears. Hatchet liked this very much.

Ronan absently scratched his chin, keeping his eyes on the road, and continued, “you’ve been the vet there for a while. Couple of years.”

Adam didn’t know what to say to that. He hadn’t talked to anyone about his plans after high school, but he thought it had been clear enough that he was leaving Henrietta. He kept petting Hatchet and said pointedly, “you can’t tell me that you didn’t have an illegal pet in the dorms.” 

Adam was fairly sure that Ronan would still have kept Chainsaw if he had still been living at Aglionby instead of Monmouth. Adam had a vivid memory of Ronan proudly introducing her as a hatchling - scraggly and dinosaur-like - in a nest of old gym towels stuffed in a duffle bag in the back of math class. 

“Judge Adam takes the stand!” Ronan laughed, “I would never! Besides, I didn't go to Aglionby.” 

“What?” Adam couldn’t help his surprise. He had known that there were huge differences between his timeline and this future, but somehow Aglionby had seemed immutable. Adam had assumed that in all timelines he would meet Gansey and have to make nice with his guard-dog Lynch until one day he realized that they were the three-headed Gansey-Lynch-Parrish. What would Aglionby have been without Ronan?

“Did I seriously go to that dick-factory?” Ronan sounded gleefully disgusted. 

“Yeah,” Adam muttered, still unsettled, “with me and Gansey.”

“Huh,” Ronan pulled into the grocery store parking lot, taking the turn a bit sharp. 

“Did I?” Adam asked, “go to Aglionby in this timeline, I mean?” 

Ronan tapped his fingers against the steering wheel sharply, “yeah. Honor’s roll and everything. Don’t worry about it, Einstein.” 

Adam recognized the uncomfortable fidgeting from Ronan as an attempt to hide that he was upset now. Adam didn’t know what to do about it. Adam wondered if his future self would have known what to do - how to sooth the chaos in Ronan.

Adam asked, “were you here when we found Glendower?”

“Glendower?” Ronan wouldn’t look at Adam. His body was held in a tense line as he scoffed, “as if my dad would miss that shit-show.” 

Adam realized that he was likely just making Ronan’s mood worse and so chose to stop talking, despite the flood of curiosity that Ronan’s last answer had incited.

Finally, Ronan turned off the truck, shoved the door open, and said gruffly, “c’mon, we’re going to need a gallon of yogurt to keep Sargent Mosquito satisfied.” 

* * *

**????**

Noah was in Cabeswater. He wasn’t asleep, but it felt like a dream as Cabeswater often did. He sleepily looked around through the foliage for his friends. He hadn’t woken up without Blue nearby in a while. He didn’t see them, he couldn’t hear them. 

His red Mustang was a skeleton half-buried in the underbrush of Cabeswater. He looked down at the scratched paint. An animal had made a nest and a mess of the back seat. He felt drawn to the ground under it. 

This wasn’t right. 

He wasn’t here anymore - Blue had moved his bones to the church on the Ley Line.

No. This wasn’t right either. He wasn’t here anymore. Not really. 

Cabeswater sighed - boughs heavy in the gloom that could be mid-morning or midnight.

The harsh, red light of a fire cut through the wide, craggy tree trunks. A tame fire begging to be let loose. 

Noah stepped forward, soundless and unfocused. He could see them through the leaves. The glow of their small, angry fire threw the four of them into looming silhouettes. 

They weren’t his friends. They had dug trenches into the ground. Salt ringed the group in a double line. Cabeswater quivered around them, furious and snarling against their twisting restraints. Two of them were quite tall and muscle-bound in a way that Noah thought only happened in action movies. The third figure was wearing a brimmed hat that warped his profile into two large beak-like shadows. The fourth shadow was a flickering slip of a woman, her hair pin-straight and glittering silver in the firelight.

Because this was almost-but-not-quite a dream, Noah could see at their feet was a circle and pentagram. Small bowls with offerings laid out at each point - fire, earth, air, water. Noah had seen this sort of ritual in Whelk’s notes. The next day his head had been smashed in by greed.

“Something is missing,” said the man in the hat, his shadow wobbling against the leaves. 

The thin woman turned slightly and looked at Noah, “oh hello.” 

Noah was very solid and  _ seen. _ He did not like this feeling coming from her. 

She smiled prettily, “you’re new.” 

Noah was old old old, his consciousness stretched thin across the life of the ancient trees in Cabeswater reaching both back and forward in time. Noah did not feel new. 

“You summoned the wrong bloody kid, Vicky,” the hat-bird-man said.

She ignored him and offered Noah, “you can come help us, you know.” 

Noah croaked out a shaky, “no.” 

“We’re just looking for the key,” she continued as though he hadn’t spoken. 

His answer didn’t matter to her. She wasn’t listening, she didn’t care about his consent. He could feel the pull of the earth under the circle. It was an arid bone-white circle and it wanted to be filled. It wanted his energy, but Noah had so little to give. 

“You could help, really,” she chided him, “you don’t have much energy left, child. At least let it do some good.” 

Trembling, wispy, Noah stuttered, “it’s not time.” He was keeping the last of his life, the last of himself for the right moment. He thought of Blue’s fierce smile. He thought of Gansey’s eyes lit up with passionate awe. He said more firmly, “no.” 

When was this? Where was Blue? He wanted to feel whole again and run his fingers through her curls. He wanted to feel the warmth of her hug. The circle of sand was so cold. He was fading.

Noah vanished as a meaty hand grasped where his shoulder had been. 

“Really, Maurice,” her voice was mildly chiding, “you can’t punch a ghost. This isn’t a  _ film _ .” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been 5 months since I last posted, but I'm still working away at this story! I wanted to post a chapter to let y'all know that this is not a dropped project!  
> Thanks to everyone who is still reading & leaving kudos & commenting :) 
> 
> (Chapter count went up again because i have no beta to tell me to stop letting these characters talk about their feelings. I cannot be stopped!!)


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